“What do you mean you’re not home?” Lola said into the phone, growing increasingly annoyed.
“I’m in Venice!” her mother said. “I met Emilio at a party and he invited me to come home with him.”
“What about Thanksgiving?”
“Honey, they don’t have Thanksgiving in Italy.”
Lola decided not to try to reason with her mother. She and Glory had been planning to drive home Wednesday evening to spend their Thanksgiving with family, but Jolie Merriweather obviously had better things (and people) to do. “Did you get the clips I sent you? And the website? I have my own page on Acropolis Crime Watch.”
“Yes, and I’m very proud, but may I remind you that discretion goes a long way when it comes to crime?”
“I’m not a criminal,” Lola shot back. “I’m a super villain. I need the publicity if I want to get anywhere in life.”
On the other side of the phone her mother sighed. “You just can’t be satisfied with robbing banks and making a little money, can you? No, my little girl has to be famous. Don’t you know that famous gets you arrested? Famous gets you locked up in the loony bin. Famous gets you killed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lola said, growing more and more annoyed with her mother. “I can handle it.” How could she expect her to understand? Her mother only cared about her own comfort. She had no ambition, no interests other than parties and clothes. Sometimes Lola couldn’t believe they were related.
“Heroes, Lola. You’ll have to deal with heroes.” Lola had decided, even as a child, not to tell her mother about her best friend’s super-speed. She didn’t know how close to the heroes her daughter actually was.
“Romeo Avenger is in town,” Lola offered.
“Romeo Avenger?” But she was only momentarily distracted. “Listen, be careful, okay? I think you’ll find that heroes aren’t as easily swayed as your average person.” But Lola wasn’t listening, because she heard Glory come into the apartment.
“Gotta go Mom,” Lola said quickly. “Have fun with Emilio.”
She hung up the phone just as Glory appeared in her doorway. “Ready for Thanksgiving break?”
Lola shook her head. “Bad news. My mom buggered off to Italy.”
“I’m sorry. You can have dinner with my family if you want.”
“No, that’s okay,” Lola said quickly, imagining spending the day with Glory’s family, so wholesome and full of fiber. And every single one of them with super-powers. “I can use break to catch up on my school work. But you should take my car.”
“Take your BMW?” Glory said with some surprise. “I could never!”
“Sure you can. I wouldn’t want you to take the bus because my plans fell through.”
“I don’t want to leave you here all alone for the holiday.”
“It’s nothing--I insist.”
“Okay. But only because you insist. But if your mom blows you off for Christmas too I’m taking you home.”
“That’s fair.”
*****
Glory ended up leaving for home a day early since her classes had been canceled, and Lola found herself alone in the apartment for five days. Lola was relieved, because she wouldn’t have to worry about Glory wondering where she was when she went to the Red Door club.
Lacking her every day car, she had Kioshi and Hannah pick her up from her apartment. She wasn’t worried about them revealing where she lived to anyone--they were loyal to the very end. They met Ratface at the club. “Ready?” Lola asked, feeling more nervous than the first time she tried to get into the place. Dark Lothario was on the other side of that door. Even if he wasn’t her father, he was the biggest villain in the city--possibly on the whole of the east coast.
“Knock already,” Ratface said. “It’s cold out here.”
Lola knocked and gave the password. Without comment from the man on the other side of the intercom, the door swung open. “I can’t believe this,” Lola said, and the four of them entered.
They walked down a short hall that ended abruptly, opening up into a large warehouse space with wide catwalks over their heads. The lighting was dim except for over the bar and out on the dance floor, where no one was dancing except a handful of scantily clad woman on Greco-Roman styled pedestals. There were people everywhere--some in costumes others not, standing or sitting in small groups, talking over the loud music thumping from large speakers in every corner of the room.
“Drinks anyone?” Ratface offered. Lola gave him money and he took their orders, returning a few minutes later with thee beers and a glass of wine for Lola. At his side was a weedy looking man that could have been his brother, except he had flaming red hair. He had put a gallon of gel and hairspray in it in an attempt of an actual flame-shaped hair-style. “This is Inferno,” Ratface offered. “This is my boss, the Mistress of Minds,” he introduced.
Inferno stepped forward eagerly and shook her hand. “I saw your work at the press conference. Wonderful stuff.”
“Thanks,” Lola said, forcing a cordial smile. “I’ve seen your work as
well.”
“Glad you like it,” he replied, though she had not said anything of the sort.
Ratface took her around the club. She met Hammerhead, Doctor Terrible, and a very enthusiastic sidekick named Mysterious Ted. She met a handful of nameless henchmen and minions, but her eyes only scanned the room for Dark Lothario.
They found a table but Lola opted to remain standing, and Mysterious Ted appeared mysteriously at her side with another drink. “I‘m not actually a sidekick yet,” he said, leaning on the table and staring at her adoringly. “I’m here with my brother, the Trapdoor Spider?” Sometimes he even looked at her face instead of her cleavage. She seemed to have a fan club. Lola nodded vaguely at the boy, not paying the least bit attention.
Finally she spotted Dark Lothario sitting with a group of women at a cluster of sofas. One of the women had taken off her top and was straddling his waist in just her skirt and bra. Would this man be proud of her for playing games with the police department if he were her father? Would he approve of what she was trying to do? Or would he be like Mesmera and yell at her for being stupid?
Lola found herself staring. She had been waiting years to find her father, and now that it was here she didn’t know what to do. “I can’t introduce you,” Ratface said, noticing where she was looking. “The Lothario is way out of my league. If I even tried to talk to him he would have me squashed like a bug.”
“You want to meet Dark Lothario?” Mysterious Ted said, eager to please. “My brother can introduce you--”
“That’s okay,” she answered, little more than a whisper. The half-naked woman was now grinding into Dark Lothario’s lap, but he wasn’t looking at the woman. His eyes gazed over her shoulder--at Lola. “We have to go now,” she said, turning away quickly.
“But we just got here,” Ratface complained.
“I have to leave now,” she amended, spinning around abruptly and heading for the door. “You can stay.”
Mysterious Ted begged her to remain, but Kioshi and Hannah, loyal as ever, left with her and returned to the lair. “What’s wrong?” Hannah asked as Lola sunk down onto the sofa.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lola said. “It’s a personal matter.”
“Are you sure?”
“The two of you can go. I can get myself home.”
By herself Lola changed out of her restrictive outfit and fell onto her couch. Her cell phone was in her back pocket and it dug into her. She reached under and pulled it free, staring at the blank screen. She hit the speed-dial for her mother’s phone but hung up after two rings. Why couldn’t her mother just tell her the truth about her father? Why did she have to rely on instinct, and approach him in a dank club while he’s covered in half-naked women?
If Dark Lothario was even her father. Maybe she was deluding herself. She seemed to be good at that. Without thinking she dialed Lawrence’s number.
*****
Lawrence had spoken to his mother three times that day (even though she was still furious at him for choosing a state school she still wanted him to come home for the holiday), so when the phone rang again, even though it was close to midnight, he didn’t look at the number. “Look Ma, I’m not coming home.”
“I’m not your mother and I don’t want you to go home,” the voice answered, and he recognized it as Lola. The last time he’d seen her was that day in the back of her car, and she hadn’t tried to call him since he broke things off. “I’m assuming you’re still on campus?”
“I don’t want to go home, that’s for sure,” Lawrence answered, wondering what she wanted.
“Good. I’m coming over.”
“You can’t,” he protested. “Lola--” But she had hung up. Torch was reading at the desk, and looked over at Lawrence. “Uh, Torch, I’m really sorry--”
“But you need to kick me out for a while.” He closed his book and got up. “It’s okay, I understand.” His voice was a little stiff.
“No, you don’t--Lola is--” What? “A problem. Which I will deal with. Just give me two hours, and for the love of God, don’t tell America about this. Because it’s nothing.”
“Sure.” Torch borrowed one of Lawrence’s jackets and threw it on. “I was getting hungry anyway. You kids have fun now.”
“It’s not fun,” Lawrence protested again. “She’s not fun. Honest.”
“If you say so, dude.”
Lawrence groaned as he stood up. What the hell was she thinking? It had been a clean break, everything fine. No drama, no tears. So why was she coming over now?
He went around the room to straighten up quickly, and he felt his pulse speeding up as he did so. Lola. He could almost feel her skin and smell her hair…she was something else, no doubt. Something he needed to escape before he got into big trouble. Lawrence was contemplating how to get rid of her with his virtue and conscience intact when she knocked on the door.
She wasn’t wearing much for winter. She held her coat at her side, her top unbuttoned low enough that he could see the red lacy bra beneath, and her skirt was impossibly short, her legs bare. “Lola--” he started, but she shoved her way into his room and shut the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“No particular reason.” He’d never told her where he lived beyond the name of the building. Maybe the RA at the front desk had looked him up for her. She looked around the room and sat down in the chair Torch had just vacated, tossing one leg over the other and leaning back. “I needed a change of scenery.”
“You can’t stay here.” He was staring at those long, bronze legs--she had
great legs. “I have a girlfriend.”
“Nice of you to mention her now,” she said with a scowl. “Come over here.” Even though he knew it was in his best interest to stay as far away from Lola as possible, he did as she said, walking over to stand in front of the chair. She reached out and grabbed for his fly, and he jumped back. “Don’t,” he insisted. “Girlfriend, remember?”
“I bet she’s totally different from me, right?” she suggested. He had to nod. “Probably prettier, thinner than me. I bet she’s never gone down on you in the back of a car, am I right?” When he didn’t answer her right away all she had to do was glare at him and he nodded, compelled to tell the truth. “Which was why you came to me, isn’t it?”
“Lola, it wasn’t like that--”
“So what was it like?”
“It didn’t feel right to--to be with you both. I had to chose.”
“And you chose the girl next door. The one you could take home to mommy and be all proud of. So what is it about me? Am I too scary? Too powerful?”
“No. I love that about you,” he protested. How could he make her understand without giving away his secret? “I can’t--I can’t control myself around you,” he answered. It was taking all of the mental powers the Swami had been teaching him to keep the desk lamp behind Lola from flying across the room.
“There‘s nothing wrong with losing control.” Lola stood up and he stood rooted in one place as she walked over to him. She was wearing scary high heels that made her taller than him. If she was trying to be intimidating, it was working. The last thing Lawrence wanted to do was also the one thing he wanted to do very much, and when she kissed him, his sense of propriety lost, and soon he was back where he’d been a few weeks ago, wanting her so badly--
She pushed him backwards onto Torch’s bed and he fell too willingly. “You want me,” she said, her voice low. She straddled him, pinning him down on the mattress.
“Y-yes.”
“And your girlfriend?”
“What girlfriend?” he said, dizzy with lust, dizzy with Lola.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
*****
A/N:
Fixed the whole Crimson Dynamo last chapter. For the record, I got that from a random generator. Total coincidence. (The generator also suggested the name Geo Tracker…) My bf and I have spent the last hour and a half coming up w/ names for various ppl, and we came up with some good stuff that I can’t use.
The Human Shield is a villain sidekick whose power is the inability to die, so his job is to do things like stand in front of his boss when they go do crime, and he gets loaned out to other villains…but even though he can’t die he can still be hurt, so his life is pretty miserable. It’s brilliant. I’m very close to writing a short story about him.
Dark Lothario has an underling named Vibromaster, who is about to launch his own porn series under the Dark Lothario Presents titles.
Hammerhead and Doctor Terrible are of course an homage to Dr. Horrible and Joss Whedon.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Ch 13 Week 11
Kioshi and Hannah looked surprised when they answered Lola’s calls on Sunday afternoon and found a new face in the lair. “This is Ratface,” Lola said. “He’s a henchman.”
Hannah have him a long glance. He was wearing a dingy brown bomber jacket, fatigue pants, and had two large tote bags sitting on the floor at his feet. “Are you sure you can trust him?” she asked. “He looks kind of dodgy to me.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Lola explained. “No more playing super villain. We’re going to learn how to do this right.” When her minions nodded Lola continued. “Now, I believe I promised big guns?”
She thought Ratface seemed a little too proud of himself as he unzipped his duffle bag and started handing out guns. “This is an M16 203 Over Under,” he said, handing over a large, heavy gun to Hannah. Ratface turned to Lola and grinned. “I feel like a homicidal Santa Claus,” he offered.
“No homicide,” Lola said. “They’re just supposed to scare people.”
“All the same,” Hannah said, “we should still learn how to shoot them.” She had a small smile on her face as she stroked the gun in her hands.
“And for you my Asian friend,” Ratface said, giving a second gun to Kioshi. “This one is a P-90 SN.”
“Thank you,” Kioshi said, and Hannah stifled a laugh. “What?”
“I don’t think that’s how you respond to someone handing you a semi-automatic rifle,” Hannah told him with a grin.
Ratface rolled his eyes and dipped into his bags one more time. “SAW machine gun,” he said, holding up the biggest gun of the three. “This one is for me.”
“Why do you get the machine gun?” Hannah asked immediately. “I want a machine gun.”
“Well, if you know where to dig one up, by all means, go get your own,” Ratface replied. He clutched the gun to his chest. “I’ve always wanted one of these.”
“No arguing when I spend thousands of dollars to buy the three of you toys,” Lola snapped. “Ratface is going to take the two of you out to practice shooting.”
“What about you?” Kioshi asked.
“I don’t shoot things,” Lola replied. “You kids just go have fun.” She tried to smile, but was relieved all the same when they left, leaving her lair empty. She sat in the quiet and contemplated what they would be doing the next day. It was sure to get people to notice them, which was somewhat the point, but she was concerned. By coming out of the closet, so to speak, she would be exposing them not only to the other super villains, but the heroes and the police too. She wasn’t afraid of the police, but she had to admit, the heroes made her a little nervous.
She paced for a while, thinking about the heroes. How would Glory react to the Mind Mistress? Would one of them decide they wanted to be her arch nemesis? Did she get any say in the matter? Her mother had a nemesis once, in the ’90’s--Sonic Hero Man. He had followed her around for a few years but eventually got married and retired from heroing. They had parted amicably enough, apparently. At least, both of them were still alive. Romeo Avenger can nemisize me anytime, she thought with a small smile.
For the last few days Lola had tried to do nothing but focus on her villain career. It helped distract her from the heavy feeling she got in her chest whenever she thought of Lawrence. It was silly, mourning the loss of the pipsqueak. She knew that. She was so much better than that. Yet she still had to keep herself thinking to keep from crying.
*****
It was strange, suddenly having a roommate, Lawrence decided. He hadn’t shared a room with anyone since he was three years old. Torch didn’t have anything to move in since everything he owned had burned, so for the last few days he had been wearing Lawrence’s clothes, rolled up at the sleeves and pant legs.
“How long have you been living like that?” Lawrence asked him after a few days of getting used to each other. Lawrence had taken to wearing his mask in the room since it made Torch more comfortable, and he was pretty sure Torch even showered in the new black mask America had found for him. Lawrence found himself willing to break the mask rule, but Torch was adamant that they break as few rules as possible.
Torch was sitting in the center of his fire-proof bed set. When America explained the situation to Mim the seamstress had sheets and pillow cases ready for them within a few hours. “Just since mid-summer this time. I lost my parents when I was thirteen and I ran away from my first foster home after setting fire to the garage. No foster parent was going to put up with that. I lived on the streets for a while, but eventually I would get caught stealing or fighting and I would end up in one institution or another. They do that when you can’t control your powers you know.” Lawrence did know. It was part of the reason he had hidden his. “When I got the League letter they wouldn’t let me go…so I had to break out. They must not have informed the League because no one’s ever said anything to me. It wasn’t the greatest of places.”
He fell back on this pillows and stretched out on the bed. “I haven’t stayed in a place this nice for years.”
“The League should have found you a place,” Lawrence said, not for the first time. The program seemed to be lacking, especially where Torch was concerned.
“I can’t believe the League accepted me at all,” Torch replied. “I’m a mess. I cant even have a nightmare without catching an entire building on fire.”
“At least it was an accident. At least you’re not doing it on purpose,” Lawrence offered.
“Yeah. Or taking credit for someone else’s fires.” Someone named Inferno had sent a message to the local news station claiming that he had set the house on fire. The villains of the town seemed to love attention. The way Lawrence saw it, if the media would just stop making such a spectacle of super villains there would be a lot less crime in Acropolis. “Of course, if they had found out it was me I might be in the Gorram Asylum instead of here, so I suppose I should be thanking the guy.”
“This town is so strange.”
“Do you wish you were back home in a normal life?”
“In Ohio? Never.” Lawrence grinned. “This place is screwed up, but anything is better than Ohio.”
“You’re just saying that because you have America.”
“Maybe,” Lawrence said. America. She was wonderful, but ever since he had broken things off with Lola, anything he did with America seemed uncomfortable and…lacking. But he was convinced had not made a mistake. America was a girl you waited for, a girl you kept. Lola was…dangerous. He knew it from the hold she seemed to have over him. She was dangerous…and he missed her.
He turned on the TV to clear his head of thoughts of America and Lola. They were broadcasting a live press conference that afternoon from the police station, and he was interested to see what the chief of police had to say about the crime in Acropolis. Torch sat up again when he saw the image on the screen. “Who is that?”
Lawrence stared too at the woman in black leather broke through the crowd of reporters, flanked on either side by people with big guns in long leather coats. A guy in brown leather brought up the rear with the biggest gun of all. “I don’t know,” Lawrence answered his friend. “But I don’t think the cops have a chance against her.”
*****
Lola was acutely aware of all of the eyes, cameras, and guns in the room, all of them pointed on her. You have to be calm. You can do this. She was a naturally confident person, but she had never had the occasion to discover that she had stage fright until that very moment. “Say something,” she heard Ratface hiss behind her as the crowd separated to let them through.
I don’t know what to say. This was a bad idea. She was going to be humiliated on city-wide television, she was going to be arrested or shot…why oh why hadn’t she gone into bank robbing like her mother…
“People of Acropolis,” she heard Ratface shout out behind her as the crowds parted for them and they stepped up to the podium where Chief Simons stood staring in disbelief. “Her very voice seduces, her gaze will compel the most sane man to madness. She is the dark goddess of the psyche, her will is your command. It is my pleasure to introduce…the Mistress of Minds.”
“Thank you, Ratface,” Lola said through clenched teeth.
She half expected the crowd to start clapping after that speech, but the room was silent. There were a dozen officers in the room, but she had more fire power, and they were standing by waiting for opportunity. “What is this?” Chief Simons demanded. He was only middle aged, but he had the look of a man who used to be larger than he was now, and his hair was liberally streaked with grey. She noticed his hands were shaking, clutching at the podium to try to steady them. The chief did not look well, and she almost felt guilty for what she was about to do to him.
Lola looked at each of the police officers in turn. “You will not shoot us,” she told each man individually before she did anything else. She turned to the audience of reporters and spoke into the chief’s microphone. “I hope you all have your cameras on,” she announced, trying to quell the fear rising in her chest. They hadn’t been shot yet, so all was going according to plan.
“As my associate said, I am the Mistress of Minds. I’m new in town and I just wanted to introduce myself to Chief Simons here.” She nodded to the chief. “Hi.”
“What do you want?” he demanded. His hands were shaking worse. He was not well.
“Calm down,” she demanded. “Please.” It wouldn’t do for the man to have a heart attack in the process of things.
Lola returned to the microphone. “I have a little demonstration,” she said, and turned to the less-stressed Chief Simons. “Pat your head and rub your belly at the same time.” He complied. She wanted to start out small and work up to the good stuff. Throughout the room people started muttering to themselves, or into the mikes some of the reporters were holding. There were no less than three television cameras documenting her performance.
“Dance for us.” He moved with ungraceful steps, but improved when she started giving him direction. “Shuffle, step, ball-change on the left--Jazz hands.” Some of the reporters began to laugh, and Lola felt herself relaxing.
“Wrap this up,” Ratface whispered to her. “I’m sure the rest of the police department and a few heroes are on the way.”
She nodded. One thing left to do. “You can stop now,” she told him, and the chief gave her a murderous look, suggesting that he still had a little fire left in him. “Bark like a dog. Keep going until we’re gone.”
He was doing a fairly good impression of a yipping Chihuahua She nodded to her minions and they fled room though the back doors. Their escape wouldn’t have worked if they were at the police station, but in the convention center they passed no one as they broke into a run for the stairs, cutting through an industrial-sized kitchen at the back of the building. They surprised a few people cutting vegetables at a long counter. “Drop your knives,” Hannah said, pointing her gun at them and causing one man to scream.
“Sorry,” she said as they exited out through the kitchen’s loading dock. “I couldn’t resist.”
Instead of the Lotus for a get-away car Lola had recognized the need for discretion (once Rat-face had pointed it out) and they all piled into the delivery van waiting for them, Ratface gunning the engine. Unable to resist, Lola told him to pull around to the front of the building, where a mass of police cars nearly blocked the street, and some of the reporters had emerged. Lola caught sight of Stone, the large grey-skinned man sticking out in the crowd.
“That was good, wasn’t it?” she asked Ratface.
“I thought you’d frozen for a minute, but you managed to pull it together. We‘ll make a proper villain of you yet. They should definitely let us into the club now.”
“Wait,” Kioshi said from the back of the van. “We risked our lives so you could get into that red-door club?”
“Is that a problem?” she shot back.
“No, I just wanted to be clear.”
“Good.”
Back at the lair they locked up the guns in the expensive (but very pretty) gun safe Lola had purchased, and Hannah and Kioshi excused themselves. Hannah had a test coming up to study for and Kioshi had a class to teach. Ratface stayed after them, and Lola counted out a thousand dollars in fifties for him. “Thank you,” she said, handing him the money.
“It was one of the more interesting jobs I’ve taken,” he admitted, folding up the cash and stuffing it into his boot. “So I expect I’ll see you at the club?”
“Well, you won’t be getting in without me.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy working for you,” he told her.
She smiled. Ratface was beginning to grow on her. “I hope so.”
*****
Glory stared at the television. The local news channel played the footage of the press conference every half-hour. She’d missed the live broadcast because she was in class, but as soon as KP called her and told her what had happened she’d been glued to the TV. Another Dark Lothario, was all she could think, dismay flooding her body. What was wrong with this city? At home there were criminals. Some of them even wore costumes and masks. But this wasn’t a bank robbery or a jewelry store theft. This wasn’t about money. This Mistress of the Mind pulled the stunt only to frighten people, to get publicity. When criminals cared more about their own image than money, that was when she knew the world was in trouble.
When I’m a proper hero, I’ll show her, Glory thought. After Dark Lothario is in jail, she’ll be next. Lola walked through the door, coming in with a heavy bag of books on her shoulder. “Where have you been?” Glory asked her.
“The library,” Lola answered quickly. “I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”
“Wait,” Glory called after her as she headed for her room. “Don’t you want to see the new super-villain?”
“Seen it,” Lola paused in her doorway. “Been there, done that. This is your thing, remember, not mine. I have a lot of school work.” She shut her door behind her and Glory picked up the phone to call KP and see what he thought of the whole thing.
*****
A/N:
Merry Christmas--here's your late chapter. :)
For the record, I know nothing about Big Guns. My boyfriend told me what to use and I used them. (Guns are my least favorite weapons. I like sports equipment.)
Anonymous: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I kinda chose Conneticuit at random--I wanted a north-eastern state. I'm trying to put little homages to other super hero stories. The name of the university is for the noir detective genre, which includes Batman. Acropolis is of course for Metropolis. Ms. X is for the X-men. And so on.
Hannah have him a long glance. He was wearing a dingy brown bomber jacket, fatigue pants, and had two large tote bags sitting on the floor at his feet. “Are you sure you can trust him?” she asked. “He looks kind of dodgy to me.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Lola explained. “No more playing super villain. We’re going to learn how to do this right.” When her minions nodded Lola continued. “Now, I believe I promised big guns?”
She thought Ratface seemed a little too proud of himself as he unzipped his duffle bag and started handing out guns. “This is an M16 203 Over Under,” he said, handing over a large, heavy gun to Hannah. Ratface turned to Lola and grinned. “I feel like a homicidal Santa Claus,” he offered.
“No homicide,” Lola said. “They’re just supposed to scare people.”
“All the same,” Hannah said, “we should still learn how to shoot them.” She had a small smile on her face as she stroked the gun in her hands.
“And for you my Asian friend,” Ratface said, giving a second gun to Kioshi. “This one is a P-90 SN.”
“Thank you,” Kioshi said, and Hannah stifled a laugh. “What?”
“I don’t think that’s how you respond to someone handing you a semi-automatic rifle,” Hannah told him with a grin.
Ratface rolled his eyes and dipped into his bags one more time. “SAW machine gun,” he said, holding up the biggest gun of the three. “This one is for me.”
“Why do you get the machine gun?” Hannah asked immediately. “I want a machine gun.”
“Well, if you know where to dig one up, by all means, go get your own,” Ratface replied. He clutched the gun to his chest. “I’ve always wanted one of these.”
“No arguing when I spend thousands of dollars to buy the three of you toys,” Lola snapped. “Ratface is going to take the two of you out to practice shooting.”
“What about you?” Kioshi asked.
“I don’t shoot things,” Lola replied. “You kids just go have fun.” She tried to smile, but was relieved all the same when they left, leaving her lair empty. She sat in the quiet and contemplated what they would be doing the next day. It was sure to get people to notice them, which was somewhat the point, but she was concerned. By coming out of the closet, so to speak, she would be exposing them not only to the other super villains, but the heroes and the police too. She wasn’t afraid of the police, but she had to admit, the heroes made her a little nervous.
She paced for a while, thinking about the heroes. How would Glory react to the Mind Mistress? Would one of them decide they wanted to be her arch nemesis? Did she get any say in the matter? Her mother had a nemesis once, in the ’90’s--Sonic Hero Man. He had followed her around for a few years but eventually got married and retired from heroing. They had parted amicably enough, apparently. At least, both of them were still alive. Romeo Avenger can nemisize me anytime, she thought with a small smile.
For the last few days Lola had tried to do nothing but focus on her villain career. It helped distract her from the heavy feeling she got in her chest whenever she thought of Lawrence. It was silly, mourning the loss of the pipsqueak. She knew that. She was so much better than that. Yet she still had to keep herself thinking to keep from crying.
*****
It was strange, suddenly having a roommate, Lawrence decided. He hadn’t shared a room with anyone since he was three years old. Torch didn’t have anything to move in since everything he owned had burned, so for the last few days he had been wearing Lawrence’s clothes, rolled up at the sleeves and pant legs.
“How long have you been living like that?” Lawrence asked him after a few days of getting used to each other. Lawrence had taken to wearing his mask in the room since it made Torch more comfortable, and he was pretty sure Torch even showered in the new black mask America had found for him. Lawrence found himself willing to break the mask rule, but Torch was adamant that they break as few rules as possible.
Torch was sitting in the center of his fire-proof bed set. When America explained the situation to Mim the seamstress had sheets and pillow cases ready for them within a few hours. “Just since mid-summer this time. I lost my parents when I was thirteen and I ran away from my first foster home after setting fire to the garage. No foster parent was going to put up with that. I lived on the streets for a while, but eventually I would get caught stealing or fighting and I would end up in one institution or another. They do that when you can’t control your powers you know.” Lawrence did know. It was part of the reason he had hidden his. “When I got the League letter they wouldn’t let me go…so I had to break out. They must not have informed the League because no one’s ever said anything to me. It wasn’t the greatest of places.”
He fell back on this pillows and stretched out on the bed. “I haven’t stayed in a place this nice for years.”
“The League should have found you a place,” Lawrence said, not for the first time. The program seemed to be lacking, especially where Torch was concerned.
“I can’t believe the League accepted me at all,” Torch replied. “I’m a mess. I cant even have a nightmare without catching an entire building on fire.”
“At least it was an accident. At least you’re not doing it on purpose,” Lawrence offered.
“Yeah. Or taking credit for someone else’s fires.” Someone named Inferno had sent a message to the local news station claiming that he had set the house on fire. The villains of the town seemed to love attention. The way Lawrence saw it, if the media would just stop making such a spectacle of super villains there would be a lot less crime in Acropolis. “Of course, if they had found out it was me I might be in the Gorram Asylum instead of here, so I suppose I should be thanking the guy.”
“This town is so strange.”
“Do you wish you were back home in a normal life?”
“In Ohio? Never.” Lawrence grinned. “This place is screwed up, but anything is better than Ohio.”
“You’re just saying that because you have America.”
“Maybe,” Lawrence said. America. She was wonderful, but ever since he had broken things off with Lola, anything he did with America seemed uncomfortable and…lacking. But he was convinced had not made a mistake. America was a girl you waited for, a girl you kept. Lola was…dangerous. He knew it from the hold she seemed to have over him. She was dangerous…and he missed her.
He turned on the TV to clear his head of thoughts of America and Lola. They were broadcasting a live press conference that afternoon from the police station, and he was interested to see what the chief of police had to say about the crime in Acropolis. Torch sat up again when he saw the image on the screen. “Who is that?”
Lawrence stared too at the woman in black leather broke through the crowd of reporters, flanked on either side by people with big guns in long leather coats. A guy in brown leather brought up the rear with the biggest gun of all. “I don’t know,” Lawrence answered his friend. “But I don’t think the cops have a chance against her.”
*****
Lola was acutely aware of all of the eyes, cameras, and guns in the room, all of them pointed on her. You have to be calm. You can do this. She was a naturally confident person, but she had never had the occasion to discover that she had stage fright until that very moment. “Say something,” she heard Ratface hiss behind her as the crowd separated to let them through.
I don’t know what to say. This was a bad idea. She was going to be humiliated on city-wide television, she was going to be arrested or shot…why oh why hadn’t she gone into bank robbing like her mother…
“People of Acropolis,” she heard Ratface shout out behind her as the crowds parted for them and they stepped up to the podium where Chief Simons stood staring in disbelief. “Her very voice seduces, her gaze will compel the most sane man to madness. She is the dark goddess of the psyche, her will is your command. It is my pleasure to introduce…the Mistress of Minds.”
“Thank you, Ratface,” Lola said through clenched teeth.
She half expected the crowd to start clapping after that speech, but the room was silent. There were a dozen officers in the room, but she had more fire power, and they were standing by waiting for opportunity. “What is this?” Chief Simons demanded. He was only middle aged, but he had the look of a man who used to be larger than he was now, and his hair was liberally streaked with grey. She noticed his hands were shaking, clutching at the podium to try to steady them. The chief did not look well, and she almost felt guilty for what she was about to do to him.
Lola looked at each of the police officers in turn. “You will not shoot us,” she told each man individually before she did anything else. She turned to the audience of reporters and spoke into the chief’s microphone. “I hope you all have your cameras on,” she announced, trying to quell the fear rising in her chest. They hadn’t been shot yet, so all was going according to plan.
“As my associate said, I am the Mistress of Minds. I’m new in town and I just wanted to introduce myself to Chief Simons here.” She nodded to the chief. “Hi.”
“What do you want?” he demanded. His hands were shaking worse. He was not well.
“Calm down,” she demanded. “Please.” It wouldn’t do for the man to have a heart attack in the process of things.
Lola returned to the microphone. “I have a little demonstration,” she said, and turned to the less-stressed Chief Simons. “Pat your head and rub your belly at the same time.” He complied. She wanted to start out small and work up to the good stuff. Throughout the room people started muttering to themselves, or into the mikes some of the reporters were holding. There were no less than three television cameras documenting her performance.
“Dance for us.” He moved with ungraceful steps, but improved when she started giving him direction. “Shuffle, step, ball-change on the left--Jazz hands.” Some of the reporters began to laugh, and Lola felt herself relaxing.
“Wrap this up,” Ratface whispered to her. “I’m sure the rest of the police department and a few heroes are on the way.”
She nodded. One thing left to do. “You can stop now,” she told him, and the chief gave her a murderous look, suggesting that he still had a little fire left in him. “Bark like a dog. Keep going until we’re gone.”
He was doing a fairly good impression of a yipping Chihuahua She nodded to her minions and they fled room though the back doors. Their escape wouldn’t have worked if they were at the police station, but in the convention center they passed no one as they broke into a run for the stairs, cutting through an industrial-sized kitchen at the back of the building. They surprised a few people cutting vegetables at a long counter. “Drop your knives,” Hannah said, pointing her gun at them and causing one man to scream.
“Sorry,” she said as they exited out through the kitchen’s loading dock. “I couldn’t resist.”
Instead of the Lotus for a get-away car Lola had recognized the need for discretion (once Rat-face had pointed it out) and they all piled into the delivery van waiting for them, Ratface gunning the engine. Unable to resist, Lola told him to pull around to the front of the building, where a mass of police cars nearly blocked the street, and some of the reporters had emerged. Lola caught sight of Stone, the large grey-skinned man sticking out in the crowd.
“That was good, wasn’t it?” she asked Ratface.
“I thought you’d frozen for a minute, but you managed to pull it together. We‘ll make a proper villain of you yet. They should definitely let us into the club now.”
“Wait,” Kioshi said from the back of the van. “We risked our lives so you could get into that red-door club?”
“Is that a problem?” she shot back.
“No, I just wanted to be clear.”
“Good.”
Back at the lair they locked up the guns in the expensive (but very pretty) gun safe Lola had purchased, and Hannah and Kioshi excused themselves. Hannah had a test coming up to study for and Kioshi had a class to teach. Ratface stayed after them, and Lola counted out a thousand dollars in fifties for him. “Thank you,” she said, handing him the money.
“It was one of the more interesting jobs I’ve taken,” he admitted, folding up the cash and stuffing it into his boot. “So I expect I’ll see you at the club?”
“Well, you won’t be getting in without me.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy working for you,” he told her.
She smiled. Ratface was beginning to grow on her. “I hope so.”
*****
Glory stared at the television. The local news channel played the footage of the press conference every half-hour. She’d missed the live broadcast because she was in class, but as soon as KP called her and told her what had happened she’d been glued to the TV. Another Dark Lothario, was all she could think, dismay flooding her body. What was wrong with this city? At home there were criminals. Some of them even wore costumes and masks. But this wasn’t a bank robbery or a jewelry store theft. This wasn’t about money. This Mistress of the Mind pulled the stunt only to frighten people, to get publicity. When criminals cared more about their own image than money, that was when she knew the world was in trouble.
When I’m a proper hero, I’ll show her, Glory thought. After Dark Lothario is in jail, she’ll be next. Lola walked through the door, coming in with a heavy bag of books on her shoulder. “Where have you been?” Glory asked her.
“The library,” Lola answered quickly. “I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”
“Wait,” Glory called after her as she headed for her room. “Don’t you want to see the new super-villain?”
“Seen it,” Lola paused in her doorway. “Been there, done that. This is your thing, remember, not mine. I have a lot of school work.” She shut her door behind her and Glory picked up the phone to call KP and see what he thought of the whole thing.
*****
A/N:
Merry Christmas--here's your late chapter. :)
For the record, I know nothing about Big Guns. My boyfriend told me what to use and I used them. (Guns are my least favorite weapons. I like sports equipment.)
Anonymous: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I kinda chose Conneticuit at random--I wanted a north-eastern state. I'm trying to put little homages to other super hero stories. The name of the university is for the noir detective genre, which includes Batman. Acropolis is of course for Metropolis. Ms. X is for the X-men. And so on.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Ch. 12 Week 10
Lawrence lingered after their Thursday class with Romeo Avenger, waiting until the gym had emptied entirely. He’d spent a good portion of the afternoon in the back of Lola’s car again, and he was starting to feel guilty. “Can I ask for some advice?” he asked his teacher.
“What’s up KP?” Romeo asked, glancing at the door.
Lawrence talked fast, seeing that Romeo wanted to get out of there. “I was just wondering--women really like you.”
“I know.” Romeo flashed him a smile he didn’t really want to analyze.
“So I guess what I’m asking is, well, do you have like, a secret identity girlfriend and a super hero girlfriend? I mean, can that work?”
Romeo grinned at him. “I see. Good for you kid!”
“I’m not feeling very good about it,” Lawrence said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but--”
“You have a rare opportunity,” Romeo said. “It is socially acceptable for you to live a double life--not many guys get that option. No one will get hurt as long as you keep your two identities separate. Those are the rules anyway.”
“So it’s okay?”
“Of course.”
“You’re sure.”
“Absolutely.”
“Great,” Lawrence said, not feeling any better. “Thanks.”
He followed Romeo Avenger out of the gym, so he got a full view of Cloud flying (literally) into Romeo’s arms, the two embracing in a kiss that, after about thirty seconds, became very uncomfortable to watch. Lawrence waited for them to finish and unblock the doorway. “Cheers,” Romeo said to Lawrence, and walked down the hall with his arm around Cloud’s waist.
Lawrence had a vague feeling of disapproval, and what did that mean in relation to his behavior? He caught sight of Torch in the hall, watching the couple as well. His face was twisted up into an expression of disgust. “I know what you mean,” Lawrence said, realizing that he needed to do the exact opposite of anything Romeo tells him in relation to women.
America or Lola. He couldn’t have both.
*****
Lola was watching the news that evening when Lawrence called her. “What’s up?” she asked, only half listening as she caught a news item. The chief of police would be holding a live press conference on Monday to address the Dark Lothario problem. The idea sparked through her braid so quickly she barely heard what Lawrence was saying to her. “…so I don’t think we should, you know, fool around anymore…”
“Why?” There was nothing like a live press conference to show people you mean business--to prove to them you were worthy to get into their silly little super villain club.
“I just--I just want to be friends.”
Lola’s fantasies of making the chief of police bark like a dog died as she realized what Lawrence was saying. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“We weren’t really dating, were we?”
“I paid for dinner,” Lola said, feeling dumb. No one had ever had the gall to break up with her before. “Look, can’t we talk about this?”
“No, Lola, I’m sorry. You’re a really great girl and I hope we can still be friends.”
“Friends.” She felt a cold weight settle into her chest. How could anyone say that? She had never understood the concept. Why would she want to be friends with someone who didn’t want to date her anymore. “Great. Sure.” She hung up the phone and tossed it to the other side of the couch. I should march over to his dorm room right now and make him change his mind, she thought. It would serve him right.
She glanced at the television, the newscast now covering a robbery that had been committed by a gang of mimes. “I bet they’re allowed in the club,” she said to herself. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Sit there and cry? Or do something constructive? One of the mimes had been captured and he was speaking to the reporter in sign language, explaining that he worked for the Silent Rogue.
She retrieved her phone and dialed Hannah. She needed exposure if she was going to get anywhere in this city.
*****
Glory sat cross-legged on her bed with her math book, not wanting to concentrate on school. What was the point of going to college when she was going to be a super hero anyway? Wasn’t truth, justice, and the American way more important than Algebra? “Hey Glory,” Lola’s voice called through the door, “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up.”
“Out with your boyfriend?” Glory answered in a sing-song voice. When Lola didn’t respond Glory shrugged and got up to stretch. Math was exhausting. She needed brain food if she was going to get anything done.
In the kitchen Glory dug around in the fridge for something interesting but settled for a grilled cheese sandwich. While she was cooking she noticed a burning smell. But it wasn’t coming from her pan. “What the--” Glory looked out the window and saw a column of smoke rising into the sky. It looked like it was only a few blocks away.
She turned off her pan immediately and was already pulling off her shirt and feeling in her drawer for her costume before she stopped herself. She wasn’t supposed to fight crime on her own.
But its not crime--it’s a fire. Someone might need my help. And helping people was more important than the rules.
She flew down the street at her top speed, skidding to a halt at the burning house three blocks away. She’d passed it before and knew it was empty. She had always thought it looked sad with its peeling paint and boarded up windows, but now great orange flames were shooting out of gaping black holes, and everything was so bright and so hot….
Fire trucks were just pulling up as she arrived, and in the ensuing bustle she almost didn’t notice the small huddled figure on the grass in front of the building. Glory recognized Torch’s black fire-resistant suit immediately, and it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened. She hurried to his side. “Torch?” He looked up and she faltered. He wasn’t wearing his mask. They weren’t supposed to see each other without their masks.
Probably realizing the same thing he ducked his head again. “To hell with it,” she said, feeling fierce. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no,” he managed to sputter, still hiding his face.
“C’mon. We have to get you out of here before people start asking questions.”
All of the neighbors were out in their yards watching the carnage, and someone shouted as they moved out of the yard of the burning house, but Glory didn’t stop moving, picking up speed until her velocity was carrying Torch along with her. He didn’t weigh much, and soon they were flying though the streets back to her apartment. Glory didn’t even muse on this handy new aspect of her super-speed, not even once she had him deposited on the couch in the living room.
“I-I shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“Get over it,” Glory said. “Are you sure you’re okay? You should go to the hospital. You might have smoke inhalation or something.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. She got him a glass of water and he tried to hide his face in his arm when she handed it to him. She noticed a shiny burn scar across his cheek, usually covered by his mask.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, and disappeared into her room, returning with her old pink mask.
He slipped it on. “Thank you,” he said, finally looking at her.
“What happened?”
“I…got upset.”
“Obviously. What on earth were you doing in that crummy old house?”
“Staying there.”
“What?”
“I c-can’t go to school,” he said simply. “It’s too difficult. So no scholarship for me.”
“So the league just dumped you on the streets?”
“No one offered anything better.”
“I’m calling KP,” Glory said, reaching for her phone. “This is absolutely ridiculous. The league doesn’t give us important medical information, they leave you to starve on the streets--what the hell is wrong with this program?”
“America, I’m f-fine. D-don’t call anyone. I’m okay.”
“Like hell you are.”
“We’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“I don’t care. If the League doesn’t want to take care of you, that’s fine. But we’re your friends, Torch. We’re going to take care of you.”
****
Lola explained to her minions exactly what she wanted to do at the press conference from behind her desk, but the two were less than enthusiastic. “It’s not that it isn’t a cool idea Boss,” Hannah said. “But I don’t think we really have the man-power to take on the entire police department.” Kioshi glanced at Hannah and gave a small, apologetic nod.
“I can have the entire room incapacitated with a few words,” Lola said, feeling contrary. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“Have you ever tried to control that many people at once?” Kioshi asked.
“I can do it,” Lola snapped. She had no idea how many people she could control at once.
“All I’m saying,” Hannah said, “is that if you really want to do this, I think we’re going to have to bring out the big guns. Literally.”
Lola frowned. She couldn’t think of how she could scrounge up any guns on such a short notice. She didn’t like guns as a rule, but at the same time, Hannah made sense. She was hardly going to throw common sense to the wind just because she’d been dumped. “And if I can get you these big guns?” Lola asked.
“I’ll do it,” Kioshi said.
“Me too.” Hannah agreed, but turned to Kioshi. “Have you ever shot a gun?” she asked in a mock whisper.
“No,” he answered back.
“I’m right here,” Lola snapped, annoyed.
“We know,” Hannah said. “Just to check, when we’re arrested, you can post bail and get us a good lawyer, right?”
Lola leaned back in her chair with a groan and stared up at the ceiling. “Next time I need minions I’m going for brainwashed drones.”
“We love you too Boss,” Hannah said, getting up with a bounce. “Make sure my gun is very big. Something…intimidating.”
“Of course.” She slumped in her chair as they left, sighing. That was supposed to go better, she thought. She wasn’t sure what came next. Why did he break up with me? Men love me. It didn’t make sense. She threw herself out of her chair and slammed out of her lair.
It was cold in the middle of the night, so Lola walked quickly to keep warm, the thick high heels of her boots thudding on the sidewalk. She found herself back at the red door. She pounded on it with her flat palm, slapping the door. “Daffodil, damn you,” she cried. “I want in.” The voice on the other end of the intercom didn’t even give her a reply.
“Dammit.”
“Hey, Tits.” Lola recognized the voice. She found Ratface sitting on an empty milk crate behind a garbage can playing a handheld video game.
“Are you always here?” she asked. “And my name isn’t ‘tits’ thank you very much.”
“Nearly always. I can see they’re not letting you in yet.”
“All in good time. Hey--” she said, hoping but not expecting him to be any help. “Do you now where I can get big guns? I need big guns.”
He turned off his game and stashed it in his jacket before standing up. “You say ‘big guns’ like you’re afraid of them.” He shoved his hands into his back pockets, making it obvious that he wanted her to see the handgun tucked into his belt as his clothing shifted. “You claim to be some sort of big bad. So what are you afraid of guns for?”
“I’ve never needed them,” she admitted, staring at his hip where the gun was again concealed by his jacket. She really didn’t like guns.
Ratface laughed out loud. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? What are you?”
At that moment it occurred to her that Ratface was not a college student or an engineer. He was a real criminal, and she and her minions, they were just playing like they knew what they were doing. He might be scruffy and odd-looking, but he knew things they didn’t, had done things she could hardly imagine. She was sure he had used that gun. It scared her, and it made her realize what an idiot she had been.
“Are you still looking for a job?” she asked.
“Depends. What do you do, exactly?”
“I make people do what I want them to do.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Jump,” she commanded, and he did. “Smack yourself in the face.” The slap seemed to echo through the alley.
“Ow,” he complained, rubbing his cheek.
“Again--harder.” Ratface complied, wincing even as he did it. This is a wonderful stress reliever. Lola thought.
“Okay, I believe you,” Ratface cried. “So what do you want from me?”
“You’re right. I’m not a criminal,” she said. “I don’t know how to be and neither do my minions. You know. I can tell.”
“And it’s a paying gig?”
“Absolutely.”
“Benefits?”
“You mean like health insurance?”
“Bail, lawyers, that kind of thing. I won’t be thrown to the dogs on you’re your payroll.” The sound of his voice suggested that it might have happened before.
“Of course. But I’d rather none of us got caught. I’m too pretty for prison, though I’m sure I could sway a jury fairly easily.”
“You got it Boss. So what did you need again? Guns?”
“Big guns.”
He laughed. “Sure.”
“By Monday.”
“Doable if you have access to a large amount of cash.” She nodded. “What happens Monday?”
She smiled, her earlier glee returning and Lawrence slipping from her mind for the moment. “I’m going to make the chief of police bark like a dog.”
Ratface threw back his head and laughed. “I think I like you.”
******
Lawrence stretched out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, a sick feeling in his gut. Dumping Lola was the right thing to do. He knew that. But it didn’t feel right. It felt like he had been on the verge of exploring a new world, but instead he turned around and ran back home. His cell phone rang and afraid that it might be Lola, he almost didn’t answer it. When he saw America’s name on the caller ID, he felt even worse, but he answered.
“You need to come over to my place,” she said before even saying hello, her voice rushing. “Torch is in trouble.”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, sitting up, forgetting his guilt. “Is he hurt?”
“No, it’s just…bad.”
She hung up before he could get anything else out of her, and he called her back as he got up and shoved his feet into shoes. “America? Where do you live?”
A few minutes later he pulled his truck up in front of a rambling Victorian house a couple miles from campus. America and Torch were sitting on the front steps, both in their costumes, except Torch was wearing a sparkly pink mask. “What happened?” he demanded, and America told him about the fire in rushed tones.
“…So Torch needs a place to stay,” she finished quickly.
“I don’t,” he protested. “I can f-find another abandoned house--it’s no big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal,” America said.
“She’s right,” Lawrence said before Torch could protest again. “You need a real place to live.” He took a deep breath, not sure if what he was going to say next was the best thing for him, but he knew it was for Torch. “I have an empty bed in my dorm room. You can come stay with me.”
Torch shook his head so hard his hair flew around him. “I can’t--I can’t do that. I can’t control what happens in my dreams--I could catch the whole dorm on fire. I can’t have so many lives in my hands like th-that.”
Lawrence considered this. “What if we went back to Mim, the costume woman? She could make like, a sleeping bag or something out of that fire resistant material.”
America beamed. “That would be perfect!”
Torch stared at them. “Wh-what about the rules? What about the fact that we’re n-not supposed to know about each other?”
“You shouldn’t have to be alone,” Lawrence said. “We don’t have to tell each other our names if you don’t want to. Hell, if you want to wear a mask all the time, I won’t stop you either. Just let us help you.”
Torch sighed. “You-you won’t take n-no for an answer, will you?”
“Absolutely not,” America replied for Lawrence. He nodded.
“Okay.” Torch said finally.
America hugged him, then jumped up and hugged Lawrence. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck briefly, feeling like he had made the right decision after all.
*****
A/N:
Is it spring yet? Been snowed in all week, and so bored I couldn't barely do more than stare at the TV.
“What’s up KP?” Romeo asked, glancing at the door.
Lawrence talked fast, seeing that Romeo wanted to get out of there. “I was just wondering--women really like you.”
“I know.” Romeo flashed him a smile he didn’t really want to analyze.
“So I guess what I’m asking is, well, do you have like, a secret identity girlfriend and a super hero girlfriend? I mean, can that work?”
Romeo grinned at him. “I see. Good for you kid!”
“I’m not feeling very good about it,” Lawrence said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but--”
“You have a rare opportunity,” Romeo said. “It is socially acceptable for you to live a double life--not many guys get that option. No one will get hurt as long as you keep your two identities separate. Those are the rules anyway.”
“So it’s okay?”
“Of course.”
“You’re sure.”
“Absolutely.”
“Great,” Lawrence said, not feeling any better. “Thanks.”
He followed Romeo Avenger out of the gym, so he got a full view of Cloud flying (literally) into Romeo’s arms, the two embracing in a kiss that, after about thirty seconds, became very uncomfortable to watch. Lawrence waited for them to finish and unblock the doorway. “Cheers,” Romeo said to Lawrence, and walked down the hall with his arm around Cloud’s waist.
Lawrence had a vague feeling of disapproval, and what did that mean in relation to his behavior? He caught sight of Torch in the hall, watching the couple as well. His face was twisted up into an expression of disgust. “I know what you mean,” Lawrence said, realizing that he needed to do the exact opposite of anything Romeo tells him in relation to women.
America or Lola. He couldn’t have both.
*****
Lola was watching the news that evening when Lawrence called her. “What’s up?” she asked, only half listening as she caught a news item. The chief of police would be holding a live press conference on Monday to address the Dark Lothario problem. The idea sparked through her braid so quickly she barely heard what Lawrence was saying to her. “…so I don’t think we should, you know, fool around anymore…”
“Why?” There was nothing like a live press conference to show people you mean business--to prove to them you were worthy to get into their silly little super villain club.
“I just--I just want to be friends.”
Lola’s fantasies of making the chief of police bark like a dog died as she realized what Lawrence was saying. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“We weren’t really dating, were we?”
“I paid for dinner,” Lola said, feeling dumb. No one had ever had the gall to break up with her before. “Look, can’t we talk about this?”
“No, Lola, I’m sorry. You’re a really great girl and I hope we can still be friends.”
“Friends.” She felt a cold weight settle into her chest. How could anyone say that? She had never understood the concept. Why would she want to be friends with someone who didn’t want to date her anymore. “Great. Sure.” She hung up the phone and tossed it to the other side of the couch. I should march over to his dorm room right now and make him change his mind, she thought. It would serve him right.
She glanced at the television, the newscast now covering a robbery that had been committed by a gang of mimes. “I bet they’re allowed in the club,” she said to herself. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Sit there and cry? Or do something constructive? One of the mimes had been captured and he was speaking to the reporter in sign language, explaining that he worked for the Silent Rogue.
She retrieved her phone and dialed Hannah. She needed exposure if she was going to get anywhere in this city.
*****
Glory sat cross-legged on her bed with her math book, not wanting to concentrate on school. What was the point of going to college when she was going to be a super hero anyway? Wasn’t truth, justice, and the American way more important than Algebra? “Hey Glory,” Lola’s voice called through the door, “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up.”
“Out with your boyfriend?” Glory answered in a sing-song voice. When Lola didn’t respond Glory shrugged and got up to stretch. Math was exhausting. She needed brain food if she was going to get anything done.
In the kitchen Glory dug around in the fridge for something interesting but settled for a grilled cheese sandwich. While she was cooking she noticed a burning smell. But it wasn’t coming from her pan. “What the--” Glory looked out the window and saw a column of smoke rising into the sky. It looked like it was only a few blocks away.
She turned off her pan immediately and was already pulling off her shirt and feeling in her drawer for her costume before she stopped herself. She wasn’t supposed to fight crime on her own.
But its not crime--it’s a fire. Someone might need my help. And helping people was more important than the rules.
She flew down the street at her top speed, skidding to a halt at the burning house three blocks away. She’d passed it before and knew it was empty. She had always thought it looked sad with its peeling paint and boarded up windows, but now great orange flames were shooting out of gaping black holes, and everything was so bright and so hot….
Fire trucks were just pulling up as she arrived, and in the ensuing bustle she almost didn’t notice the small huddled figure on the grass in front of the building. Glory recognized Torch’s black fire-resistant suit immediately, and it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened. She hurried to his side. “Torch?” He looked up and she faltered. He wasn’t wearing his mask. They weren’t supposed to see each other without their masks.
Probably realizing the same thing he ducked his head again. “To hell with it,” she said, feeling fierce. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no,” he managed to sputter, still hiding his face.
“C’mon. We have to get you out of here before people start asking questions.”
All of the neighbors were out in their yards watching the carnage, and someone shouted as they moved out of the yard of the burning house, but Glory didn’t stop moving, picking up speed until her velocity was carrying Torch along with her. He didn’t weigh much, and soon they were flying though the streets back to her apartment. Glory didn’t even muse on this handy new aspect of her super-speed, not even once she had him deposited on the couch in the living room.
“I-I shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“Get over it,” Glory said. “Are you sure you’re okay? You should go to the hospital. You might have smoke inhalation or something.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. She got him a glass of water and he tried to hide his face in his arm when she handed it to him. She noticed a shiny burn scar across his cheek, usually covered by his mask.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, and disappeared into her room, returning with her old pink mask.
He slipped it on. “Thank you,” he said, finally looking at her.
“What happened?”
“I…got upset.”
“Obviously. What on earth were you doing in that crummy old house?”
“Staying there.”
“What?”
“I c-can’t go to school,” he said simply. “It’s too difficult. So no scholarship for me.”
“So the league just dumped you on the streets?”
“No one offered anything better.”
“I’m calling KP,” Glory said, reaching for her phone. “This is absolutely ridiculous. The league doesn’t give us important medical information, they leave you to starve on the streets--what the hell is wrong with this program?”
“America, I’m f-fine. D-don’t call anyone. I’m okay.”
“Like hell you are.”
“We’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“I don’t care. If the League doesn’t want to take care of you, that’s fine. But we’re your friends, Torch. We’re going to take care of you.”
****
Lola explained to her minions exactly what she wanted to do at the press conference from behind her desk, but the two were less than enthusiastic. “It’s not that it isn’t a cool idea Boss,” Hannah said. “But I don’t think we really have the man-power to take on the entire police department.” Kioshi glanced at Hannah and gave a small, apologetic nod.
“I can have the entire room incapacitated with a few words,” Lola said, feeling contrary. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“Have you ever tried to control that many people at once?” Kioshi asked.
“I can do it,” Lola snapped. She had no idea how many people she could control at once.
“All I’m saying,” Hannah said, “is that if you really want to do this, I think we’re going to have to bring out the big guns. Literally.”
Lola frowned. She couldn’t think of how she could scrounge up any guns on such a short notice. She didn’t like guns as a rule, but at the same time, Hannah made sense. She was hardly going to throw common sense to the wind just because she’d been dumped. “And if I can get you these big guns?” Lola asked.
“I’ll do it,” Kioshi said.
“Me too.” Hannah agreed, but turned to Kioshi. “Have you ever shot a gun?” she asked in a mock whisper.
“No,” he answered back.
“I’m right here,” Lola snapped, annoyed.
“We know,” Hannah said. “Just to check, when we’re arrested, you can post bail and get us a good lawyer, right?”
Lola leaned back in her chair with a groan and stared up at the ceiling. “Next time I need minions I’m going for brainwashed drones.”
“We love you too Boss,” Hannah said, getting up with a bounce. “Make sure my gun is very big. Something…intimidating.”
“Of course.” She slumped in her chair as they left, sighing. That was supposed to go better, she thought. She wasn’t sure what came next. Why did he break up with me? Men love me. It didn’t make sense. She threw herself out of her chair and slammed out of her lair.
It was cold in the middle of the night, so Lola walked quickly to keep warm, the thick high heels of her boots thudding on the sidewalk. She found herself back at the red door. She pounded on it with her flat palm, slapping the door. “Daffodil, damn you,” she cried. “I want in.” The voice on the other end of the intercom didn’t even give her a reply.
“Dammit.”
“Hey, Tits.” Lola recognized the voice. She found Ratface sitting on an empty milk crate behind a garbage can playing a handheld video game.
“Are you always here?” she asked. “And my name isn’t ‘tits’ thank you very much.”
“Nearly always. I can see they’re not letting you in yet.”
“All in good time. Hey--” she said, hoping but not expecting him to be any help. “Do you now where I can get big guns? I need big guns.”
He turned off his game and stashed it in his jacket before standing up. “You say ‘big guns’ like you’re afraid of them.” He shoved his hands into his back pockets, making it obvious that he wanted her to see the handgun tucked into his belt as his clothing shifted. “You claim to be some sort of big bad. So what are you afraid of guns for?”
“I’ve never needed them,” she admitted, staring at his hip where the gun was again concealed by his jacket. She really didn’t like guns.
Ratface laughed out loud. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? What are you?”
At that moment it occurred to her that Ratface was not a college student or an engineer. He was a real criminal, and she and her minions, they were just playing like they knew what they were doing. He might be scruffy and odd-looking, but he knew things they didn’t, had done things she could hardly imagine. She was sure he had used that gun. It scared her, and it made her realize what an idiot she had been.
“Are you still looking for a job?” she asked.
“Depends. What do you do, exactly?”
“I make people do what I want them to do.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Jump,” she commanded, and he did. “Smack yourself in the face.” The slap seemed to echo through the alley.
“Ow,” he complained, rubbing his cheek.
“Again--harder.” Ratface complied, wincing even as he did it. This is a wonderful stress reliever. Lola thought.
“Okay, I believe you,” Ratface cried. “So what do you want from me?”
“You’re right. I’m not a criminal,” she said. “I don’t know how to be and neither do my minions. You know. I can tell.”
“And it’s a paying gig?”
“Absolutely.”
“Benefits?”
“You mean like health insurance?”
“Bail, lawyers, that kind of thing. I won’t be thrown to the dogs on you’re your payroll.” The sound of his voice suggested that it might have happened before.
“Of course. But I’d rather none of us got caught. I’m too pretty for prison, though I’m sure I could sway a jury fairly easily.”
“You got it Boss. So what did you need again? Guns?”
“Big guns.”
He laughed. “Sure.”
“By Monday.”
“Doable if you have access to a large amount of cash.” She nodded. “What happens Monday?”
She smiled, her earlier glee returning and Lawrence slipping from her mind for the moment. “I’m going to make the chief of police bark like a dog.”
Ratface threw back his head and laughed. “I think I like you.”
******
Lawrence stretched out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, a sick feeling in his gut. Dumping Lola was the right thing to do. He knew that. But it didn’t feel right. It felt like he had been on the verge of exploring a new world, but instead he turned around and ran back home. His cell phone rang and afraid that it might be Lola, he almost didn’t answer it. When he saw America’s name on the caller ID, he felt even worse, but he answered.
“You need to come over to my place,” she said before even saying hello, her voice rushing. “Torch is in trouble.”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, sitting up, forgetting his guilt. “Is he hurt?”
“No, it’s just…bad.”
She hung up before he could get anything else out of her, and he called her back as he got up and shoved his feet into shoes. “America? Where do you live?”
A few minutes later he pulled his truck up in front of a rambling Victorian house a couple miles from campus. America and Torch were sitting on the front steps, both in their costumes, except Torch was wearing a sparkly pink mask. “What happened?” he demanded, and America told him about the fire in rushed tones.
“…So Torch needs a place to stay,” she finished quickly.
“I don’t,” he protested. “I can f-find another abandoned house--it’s no big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal,” America said.
“She’s right,” Lawrence said before Torch could protest again. “You need a real place to live.” He took a deep breath, not sure if what he was going to say next was the best thing for him, but he knew it was for Torch. “I have an empty bed in my dorm room. You can come stay with me.”
Torch shook his head so hard his hair flew around him. “I can’t--I can’t do that. I can’t control what happens in my dreams--I could catch the whole dorm on fire. I can’t have so many lives in my hands like th-that.”
Lawrence considered this. “What if we went back to Mim, the costume woman? She could make like, a sleeping bag or something out of that fire resistant material.”
America beamed. “That would be perfect!”
Torch stared at them. “Wh-what about the rules? What about the fact that we’re n-not supposed to know about each other?”
“You shouldn’t have to be alone,” Lawrence said. “We don’t have to tell each other our names if you don’t want to. Hell, if you want to wear a mask all the time, I won’t stop you either. Just let us help you.”
Torch sighed. “You-you won’t take n-no for an answer, will you?”
“Absolutely not,” America replied for Lawrence. He nodded.
“Okay.” Torch said finally.
America hugged him, then jumped up and hugged Lawrence. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck briefly, feeling like he had made the right decision after all.
*****
A/N:
Is it spring yet? Been snowed in all week, and so bored I couldn't barely do more than stare at the TV.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Ch. 11 Week 9
In the steamy interior of Lola’s BMW she climbed up to the front seat to check her lipstick in the rearview mirror. It definitely needed some touching up, since most of it had smeared off across several portions of Lawrence’s anatomy. In the back he was pulling his shirt back on. He leaned forward. “What time is it?” he asked, still breathing heavy.
Lola fished her cell phone out of her purse. “Going on five.”
“Crap,” he said, and leaned over her to retrieve his flannel shirt from the dashboard. “I gotta get going.”
“You have another hot date?” Lola questioned, digging in her bag for her lipstick.
“Night class,” he said, buttoning his shirt.
Lola found her hairbrush and raked it through her now sloppy waves. “I gotta get going too,” she offered. “Job.”
“You work?” he questioned, sounding surprised.
“Here and there,” she answered, doing her best to be vague. “Need me to drop you anywhere?”
“No thanks, I can walk.”
They both tumbled out of the car and Lola stood opposite Lawrence. She grinned when she saw he had miss-buttoned his shirt, but didn’t say anything. He had a slightly glazed expression from a good hour in her backseat. “Well,” he said. “That was um, enlightening.”
“I’ll have you corrupted yet,” she teased. They hadn’t had sex, which was fine with her, if only because the back of a car was not really roomy enough if there were other options. Something seemed to be holding him back. Maybe he wanted to take things slow. It was kind of sweet, and definitely a refreshing change. Of course, this was the first time she wanted a guy for something other than sex or to look good on her arm at parties.
“Soon,” he promised, and they kissed, Lawrence surprising her by pushing her up against the car, his hand sliding up her skirt and clutching her hip. Lola moaned against his lips…why did he have to go…
Lawrence pulled away too soon. “I’ll call you later, he offered, and she nodded. “And coffee tomorrow?”
“Unless you can think of anything more interesting to do,” she said, and he left her alone in the parking deck, with an annoying warmth in her lower extremities that refused to go away. “You’re doomed,” she told herself, climbing into the car and starting the engine. She had better things to do than lust after a math geek that looked twelve.
Lola drove over to the garage where she kept her Lotus. She had brainwashed a man into letting her use it. It opened up into an alley that was rarely occupied by more than a garbage can or a stray cat. She changed into the Mind Mistress’s costume and traded cars, driving the rest of the way to her lair in style.
Kioshi and Hannah were waiting for her there, matching in their black dusters and black t-shirts. She had talked to Kioshi earlier that evening--apparently they had good news for her. She’d sent them out to comb the city looking for any signs of a meeting place for other super villains. Despite her minions, despite Lawrence, she still felt alone. The city was crawling with dozens of super villains and hundreds of more run of the mill criminals. She was sure they were off networking somewhere in the city.
“What have you got for me?” she asked them.
“We found a club,” Hannah told her, handing her a slip of paper with a west side address on it, only a few blocks from the lair. “No name, just the address. It’s very underground. There’s a red door. You need a password.”
“Wonderful.”
“We couldn’t figure it out.”
“That’s okay,” Lola said. If her mother could mind control herself into a bank vault, getting past a password was bound to be little difficulty.
Kioshi spoke up. “Do you want us to come with you?”
“No,” Lola said after some consideration. “Not until I’ve scouted the place out. I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble before I know its trustworthy.”
“But our job is to protect you,” Kioshi argued, and Hannah nodded in agreement. “You can’t go on your own.”
“Sure I can.” If Dark Lothario was there she didn’t want to meet her potential father with a slew of people in tow. She’d wondered what she wanted to happen when the time came. Did she want him to recognize her, to accept her? Glory was right--what he did to those women was terrible, no matter how much they enjoyed it at the time. Her mother was bad, but at least Mesmera didn’t ruin people’s lives. Her instincts told her that he was her father. Maybe it would be best if her instincts were wrong.
“I’ll be fine,” Lola promised them. “If I run into trouble I’ll call you.” She had given them both phones with all the bells and whistles available.
“We’ll stay here so we’ll be close,” Hannah told her.
Lola nodded in acquiescence.
******
Lawrence arrived a few minutes late to his second meeting with the Golden Swami. She had confiscated one of the second floor classrooms--they were mostly empty--and had turned it into a large spacious office. She a large chair situated behind an old wooden desk at the front of the room and had scattered brightly woven rugs across the floor and filled a ledge under the windows lining one wall with various plants. She was sitting in a well upholstered armchair in one corner, a small table sporting a full tea service at her side, while he had an old wooden folding chair to sit in in front of a table littered with various objects that he was supposed to practice with.
“You’re late,” she chided as soon as he stepped into the door, giving him a studying look. He hoped there wasn’t any lipstick on his face or collar. Lola had been…wonderful. And in the car there wasn’t as many items or enough space to send stuff flying around them, which was good because if there had been…it would have looked like a tornado.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down in the hard chair. “I had--a thing.”
“Your shirt is buttoned wrong,” she told him.
“Oh.” He started to undo his shirt but a yardstick flashed out of nowhere and smacked his knuckles. He yelped and jumped back, out of the Swami’s limited reach. “Hey!”
She propped the stick up against the arm of her chair. “Don’t use your fingers,” she told him. “Use your mind.”
Use my mind? A mind still reeling from the time spent with Lola? A mind that was incapable of voluntary activity greater than turning a page in a book? “I don’t think I can,” he told her.
“You’re not leaving tonight until you figure it out.” She gave him a demure smile and poured herself a cup of tea. It was going to be a long night.
*****
Lola could feel her hands shaking with nervousness as she approached the address Hannah had given her. The building was an abandoned factory, but she could tell that it wasn’t really. It was a little bit better kept up than other buildings on the block, and Lola found the red door Hannah had mentioned almost immediately. It was heavy and didn’t budge when she tried to open it. There was no buzzer, so she simply knocked.
A moment later she heard the crackle of a hidden intercom. “Password?” a man’s voice asked.
Lola stood up straight and tried to feel confident, though she knew it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t force anyone to do anything through an intercom. She needed both visual and auditory contact. “My name is the Mind Mistress,” she said. “Let me in.”
“Not the password.”
She frowned and looked around for any clue at all. The street boasted only a cracked sidewalk and a few stacks of empty crates against one wall of the building. The stack of crates began to laugh at her. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
“Just me,” the laugh answered, and emerged from behind the crates as a compact, beady-eyed young man with off-brown hair and dirty jeans. “I’m called Ratface.”
“I can see why,” she replied. He had a sly look to his slightly pointy face.
“I’m a henchman,” he offered. “Though, out of work at the moment,” he
added.
“Well, I already have minions, I’m sorry,” she said, annoyed with the whole situation.
“Minion? Me? Never. I want cash, lady, if I’m going to be working for anyone.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of one of the fingerless gloves he was wearing. She could see why he was out of work.
“Do you know the password?” she asked him hopefully.
“Well I don’t think I’d be sharing it with the likes of you, now would I?” he replied. “Who’re you anyway, Miss Mind Mistress?”
“I’m new in town,” she told him.
“I know you are. I would have noticed a chick like you.” His eyes traveled over her body.
“Stop looking at my boobs.” His chin snapped up, giving her the eye contact that she needed. “Tell me the password.”
“It’s ‘daffodil,’” he answered. “But it doesn’t matter. They wont let you in if they haven’t heard of you. Why do you think I’m sitting out here? I’m hoping to ride in on someone else’s coat tails. Instead, you show up. No bleeping help there.”
“I need to get inside,” she insisted. “There has to be a way.”
“It’s an elite club,” Ratface said. “They won’t let just anyone in, no matter how hot you are.”
Lola sighed and turned on her heels, knowing when she was beat. Ratface called after her: “Hey! You need a henchman? I’m cheap!” She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
******
It took Lawrence most of the evening to master buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt, but finally he was able to do it with little difficulty, and the Golden Swami seemed pleased with their work. “I can practically feel the talent waiting to burst out of you,” she told him. “You just have to learn to let it flow.” She used her telekinesis to lift herself up out of the chair and she floated past him and out of the room.
“Show off,” he muttered, buttoning his shirt with his actual fingers for a last time.
******
Glory sat on the floor in the hall outside the Golden Swami’s office. She’d been waiting for KP forever. All of her homework was done and packed back into her bag and she was reading a romance novel her mother had sent her, “Bethany’s Bridegroom,” when the door finally opened. Glory stared at the Swami floating down the hall, and KP trudged out behind her, looking tired and pale.
“That woman is trying to kill me,” he said, offering a hand and pulling Glory to her feet. “I have the worst migraine ever.”
“Poor baby,” she cooed, being properly concerned and giving him a tight hug. “Does she burn incense in there?” she asked him, noting a less than masculine aroma on his clothes. “You smell like flowers.”
“Um, yeah,” he said, pulling away. “Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat.”
He picked up her bag and they made their way to the lounge, empty in the late hour. KP collapsed on one of the couches while Glory sifted through the kitchen. “Pizza?” she asked, opening the freezer.
“Sounds good.”
Glory put a frozen pizza in the oven and KP sat up to make room for her on the couch. It was very quiet in the empty lounge and she was acutely aware of how alone they were. Ever since the day he had pushed her up against the lockers she had been a little nervous about being alone with him, not because she was afraid he would try to do something she didn’t want him to, but because she just hated the idea of telling him ‘no‘. “What did you learn today?” she asked.
She felt a sudden coolness at her collar and she looked down to see the top button of her lavender polo shirt had popped open. As she watched the second button worked its way out of its hole. “That is so cool,” she breathed, momentarily enthralled with the concept of being literally undressed by a man’s mind. Stupid romance novel, she cursed to herself.
Glory sat completely still as the third button came undone. The shirt was old and leaning towards too small so the collar gaped open, showing the slightest bit of cleavage. She’d worn less around KP in Romeo’s class, but this was different.
“You are so bright and beautiful and glorious,” KP said quietly, and Glory’s heart surged in her chest. She couldn’t tell him her name, but he still knew. “I wish you’d let me in.”
She bit her lower lip. “KP…I don’t believe in getting too physical unless there is a strong, loving, permanent relationship. We’re not there yet,” she said softly. “I hope we will be one day.”
He nodded, looking grim. “Okay America.”
“I understand if you don’t want to see me any more.”
“Do you really think I’m so shallow?”
She shrugged, wanting to cry. “You’re a boy. Boys want to have sex. And it’s not that I don’t--I do--I just want it to mean something.”
He gave her a hug. “Okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And I’m sorry if you’ve felt pressured. I didn’t mean for you to.”
Feeling a sense of relief, Glory leaned against him. “I’m glad.”
******
A/N:
Sorry for the lateness. School is out and I dont have internet or a car, and it's been snowy. Updates might be wonky over xmas break, but they will still happen weekly. It'll just be a surprise which day.
This is my favorite chapter so far. I cackled madly while writing the end with Glory and Lawrence. And then there's the intro of Ratface, who will be important. He's named after a cat I used to have. He was cute in an ugly sort of way.
Anon: if you catch a typo go ahead and tell me. I might not be motivated enough to go fix it, but it's good to know they're there. :) Glad you like the story.
Lola fished her cell phone out of her purse. “Going on five.”
“Crap,” he said, and leaned over her to retrieve his flannel shirt from the dashboard. “I gotta get going.”
“You have another hot date?” Lola questioned, digging in her bag for her lipstick.
“Night class,” he said, buttoning his shirt.
Lola found her hairbrush and raked it through her now sloppy waves. “I gotta get going too,” she offered. “Job.”
“You work?” he questioned, sounding surprised.
“Here and there,” she answered, doing her best to be vague. “Need me to drop you anywhere?”
“No thanks, I can walk.”
They both tumbled out of the car and Lola stood opposite Lawrence. She grinned when she saw he had miss-buttoned his shirt, but didn’t say anything. He had a slightly glazed expression from a good hour in her backseat. “Well,” he said. “That was um, enlightening.”
“I’ll have you corrupted yet,” she teased. They hadn’t had sex, which was fine with her, if only because the back of a car was not really roomy enough if there were other options. Something seemed to be holding him back. Maybe he wanted to take things slow. It was kind of sweet, and definitely a refreshing change. Of course, this was the first time she wanted a guy for something other than sex or to look good on her arm at parties.
“Soon,” he promised, and they kissed, Lawrence surprising her by pushing her up against the car, his hand sliding up her skirt and clutching her hip. Lola moaned against his lips…why did he have to go…
Lawrence pulled away too soon. “I’ll call you later, he offered, and she nodded. “And coffee tomorrow?”
“Unless you can think of anything more interesting to do,” she said, and he left her alone in the parking deck, with an annoying warmth in her lower extremities that refused to go away. “You’re doomed,” she told herself, climbing into the car and starting the engine. She had better things to do than lust after a math geek that looked twelve.
Lola drove over to the garage where she kept her Lotus. She had brainwashed a man into letting her use it. It opened up into an alley that was rarely occupied by more than a garbage can or a stray cat. She changed into the Mind Mistress’s costume and traded cars, driving the rest of the way to her lair in style.
Kioshi and Hannah were waiting for her there, matching in their black dusters and black t-shirts. She had talked to Kioshi earlier that evening--apparently they had good news for her. She’d sent them out to comb the city looking for any signs of a meeting place for other super villains. Despite her minions, despite Lawrence, she still felt alone. The city was crawling with dozens of super villains and hundreds of more run of the mill criminals. She was sure they were off networking somewhere in the city.
“What have you got for me?” she asked them.
“We found a club,” Hannah told her, handing her a slip of paper with a west side address on it, only a few blocks from the lair. “No name, just the address. It’s very underground. There’s a red door. You need a password.”
“Wonderful.”
“We couldn’t figure it out.”
“That’s okay,” Lola said. If her mother could mind control herself into a bank vault, getting past a password was bound to be little difficulty.
Kioshi spoke up. “Do you want us to come with you?”
“No,” Lola said after some consideration. “Not until I’ve scouted the place out. I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble before I know its trustworthy.”
“But our job is to protect you,” Kioshi argued, and Hannah nodded in agreement. “You can’t go on your own.”
“Sure I can.” If Dark Lothario was there she didn’t want to meet her potential father with a slew of people in tow. She’d wondered what she wanted to happen when the time came. Did she want him to recognize her, to accept her? Glory was right--what he did to those women was terrible, no matter how much they enjoyed it at the time. Her mother was bad, but at least Mesmera didn’t ruin people’s lives. Her instincts told her that he was her father. Maybe it would be best if her instincts were wrong.
“I’ll be fine,” Lola promised them. “If I run into trouble I’ll call you.” She had given them both phones with all the bells and whistles available.
“We’ll stay here so we’ll be close,” Hannah told her.
Lola nodded in acquiescence.
******
Lawrence arrived a few minutes late to his second meeting with the Golden Swami. She had confiscated one of the second floor classrooms--they were mostly empty--and had turned it into a large spacious office. She a large chair situated behind an old wooden desk at the front of the room and had scattered brightly woven rugs across the floor and filled a ledge under the windows lining one wall with various plants. She was sitting in a well upholstered armchair in one corner, a small table sporting a full tea service at her side, while he had an old wooden folding chair to sit in in front of a table littered with various objects that he was supposed to practice with.
“You’re late,” she chided as soon as he stepped into the door, giving him a studying look. He hoped there wasn’t any lipstick on his face or collar. Lola had been…wonderful. And in the car there wasn’t as many items or enough space to send stuff flying around them, which was good because if there had been…it would have looked like a tornado.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down in the hard chair. “I had--a thing.”
“Your shirt is buttoned wrong,” she told him.
“Oh.” He started to undo his shirt but a yardstick flashed out of nowhere and smacked his knuckles. He yelped and jumped back, out of the Swami’s limited reach. “Hey!”
She propped the stick up against the arm of her chair. “Don’t use your fingers,” she told him. “Use your mind.”
Use my mind? A mind still reeling from the time spent with Lola? A mind that was incapable of voluntary activity greater than turning a page in a book? “I don’t think I can,” he told her.
“You’re not leaving tonight until you figure it out.” She gave him a demure smile and poured herself a cup of tea. It was going to be a long night.
*****
Lola could feel her hands shaking with nervousness as she approached the address Hannah had given her. The building was an abandoned factory, but she could tell that it wasn’t really. It was a little bit better kept up than other buildings on the block, and Lola found the red door Hannah had mentioned almost immediately. It was heavy and didn’t budge when she tried to open it. There was no buzzer, so she simply knocked.
A moment later she heard the crackle of a hidden intercom. “Password?” a man’s voice asked.
Lola stood up straight and tried to feel confident, though she knew it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t force anyone to do anything through an intercom. She needed both visual and auditory contact. “My name is the Mind Mistress,” she said. “Let me in.”
“Not the password.”
She frowned and looked around for any clue at all. The street boasted only a cracked sidewalk and a few stacks of empty crates against one wall of the building. The stack of crates began to laugh at her. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
“Just me,” the laugh answered, and emerged from behind the crates as a compact, beady-eyed young man with off-brown hair and dirty jeans. “I’m called Ratface.”
“I can see why,” she replied. He had a sly look to his slightly pointy face.
“I’m a henchman,” he offered. “Though, out of work at the moment,” he
added.
“Well, I already have minions, I’m sorry,” she said, annoyed with the whole situation.
“Minion? Me? Never. I want cash, lady, if I’m going to be working for anyone.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of one of the fingerless gloves he was wearing. She could see why he was out of work.
“Do you know the password?” she asked him hopefully.
“Well I don’t think I’d be sharing it with the likes of you, now would I?” he replied. “Who’re you anyway, Miss Mind Mistress?”
“I’m new in town,” she told him.
“I know you are. I would have noticed a chick like you.” His eyes traveled over her body.
“Stop looking at my boobs.” His chin snapped up, giving her the eye contact that she needed. “Tell me the password.”
“It’s ‘daffodil,’” he answered. “But it doesn’t matter. They wont let you in if they haven’t heard of you. Why do you think I’m sitting out here? I’m hoping to ride in on someone else’s coat tails. Instead, you show up. No bleeping help there.”
“I need to get inside,” she insisted. “There has to be a way.”
“It’s an elite club,” Ratface said. “They won’t let just anyone in, no matter how hot you are.”
Lola sighed and turned on her heels, knowing when she was beat. Ratface called after her: “Hey! You need a henchman? I’m cheap!” She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
******
It took Lawrence most of the evening to master buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt, but finally he was able to do it with little difficulty, and the Golden Swami seemed pleased with their work. “I can practically feel the talent waiting to burst out of you,” she told him. “You just have to learn to let it flow.” She used her telekinesis to lift herself up out of the chair and she floated past him and out of the room.
“Show off,” he muttered, buttoning his shirt with his actual fingers for a last time.
******
Glory sat on the floor in the hall outside the Golden Swami’s office. She’d been waiting for KP forever. All of her homework was done and packed back into her bag and she was reading a romance novel her mother had sent her, “Bethany’s Bridegroom,” when the door finally opened. Glory stared at the Swami floating down the hall, and KP trudged out behind her, looking tired and pale.
“That woman is trying to kill me,” he said, offering a hand and pulling Glory to her feet. “I have the worst migraine ever.”
“Poor baby,” she cooed, being properly concerned and giving him a tight hug. “Does she burn incense in there?” she asked him, noting a less than masculine aroma on his clothes. “You smell like flowers.”
“Um, yeah,” he said, pulling away. “Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat.”
He picked up her bag and they made their way to the lounge, empty in the late hour. KP collapsed on one of the couches while Glory sifted through the kitchen. “Pizza?” she asked, opening the freezer.
“Sounds good.”
Glory put a frozen pizza in the oven and KP sat up to make room for her on the couch. It was very quiet in the empty lounge and she was acutely aware of how alone they were. Ever since the day he had pushed her up against the lockers she had been a little nervous about being alone with him, not because she was afraid he would try to do something she didn’t want him to, but because she just hated the idea of telling him ‘no‘. “What did you learn today?” she asked.
She felt a sudden coolness at her collar and she looked down to see the top button of her lavender polo shirt had popped open. As she watched the second button worked its way out of its hole. “That is so cool,” she breathed, momentarily enthralled with the concept of being literally undressed by a man’s mind. Stupid romance novel, she cursed to herself.
Glory sat completely still as the third button came undone. The shirt was old and leaning towards too small so the collar gaped open, showing the slightest bit of cleavage. She’d worn less around KP in Romeo’s class, but this was different.
“You are so bright and beautiful and glorious,” KP said quietly, and Glory’s heart surged in her chest. She couldn’t tell him her name, but he still knew. “I wish you’d let me in.”
She bit her lower lip. “KP…I don’t believe in getting too physical unless there is a strong, loving, permanent relationship. We’re not there yet,” she said softly. “I hope we will be one day.”
He nodded, looking grim. “Okay America.”
“I understand if you don’t want to see me any more.”
“Do you really think I’m so shallow?”
She shrugged, wanting to cry. “You’re a boy. Boys want to have sex. And it’s not that I don’t--I do--I just want it to mean something.”
He gave her a hug. “Okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And I’m sorry if you’ve felt pressured. I didn’t mean for you to.”
Feeling a sense of relief, Glory leaned against him. “I’m glad.”
******
A/N:
Sorry for the lateness. School is out and I dont have internet or a car, and it's been snowy. Updates might be wonky over xmas break, but they will still happen weekly. It'll just be a surprise which day.
This is my favorite chapter so far. I cackled madly while writing the end with Glory and Lawrence. And then there's the intro of Ratface, who will be important. He's named after a cat I used to have. He was cute in an ugly sort of way.
Anon: if you catch a typo go ahead and tell me. I might not be motivated enough to go fix it, but it's good to know they're there. :) Glad you like the story.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Ch. 10 Week 8
Lola found herself inexplicably looking forward to tuesday afternoon, when Lawrence Lawrence would be waiting for her as she got out of Psychology. As soon as the professor gave them the signal she packed up her books and was out the door. Lawrence was waiting, as usual.
"Hi," he said, and she resisted the urge to kiss him in greeting. What was she thinking?
Glory was right. He was no Antonio, no Jean-Luc. Why on earth did she find him so fascinating? She tried to quell the nervous fluttering in her chest. Antonio had never done this to her. "Hello, Lawrence," she said, trying to stay cool. "Coffee?"
"Of course." They walked together in companionable silence.
"How was your weekend?" he asked her eventually.
"Uneventful," she said. The truth was, she had taken the Lotus out for a joy ride and had to mind control herself out of not one, but two speeding tickets. "Studying, mostly. What about you?"
"The same."
"We are boring people," she offered, and he laughed a little too readily. "Lawrence?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want to go out? Like on a date?" She hadn't had any intentions on asking him, the invitation blurting out of her mouth by pure instinct. He stopped dead on the stairs they were climbing down.
"Are you serious?"
"I think so."
"I thought you just wanted to be friends. We've been having coffee for two weeks now...you didn't even want the first cup if I remember correctly."
"Well, I changed my mind," she said. "Do you want to go out with me or what? I can be a lot of fun." She gave him her best seductive smile. It usually had a melting effect on men, and this was no exception. She had to grab onto his arm to keep him from stumbling down the stairs.
"I guess we could go out."
"Great. What are you doing Wednesday night? " Glory would be at her League meeting until late--Lola would have the apartment to herself.
"I can't on Wednesday," he said quickly. "I have Friday free."
"Friday it is," she said with a smile. "You still want that coffee?" He nodded. "Great. Don’t fall down the stairs anymore."
*****
Lawrence could hardly believe his luck. The beautiful, sexy, wonderful Lola wanted to go on a date--with short, dweebish him. He felt like he could float as high as Cloud, but one small dread kept him grounded. America. He wasn’t against lying in general--it was a necessary evil when it came to keeping his two identities separate--but going out with another girl behind America's back seemed a little bit more severe.
We never said we were exclusive, he thought to himself as he walked to Memorial Hall for their Tuesday night class with Romeo. And for all I know Lola and I won't work out. There is no reason to feel the least bit guilty.
The thought was of little comfort when America ran to meet him, all smiles and blond hair and innocence. She was nothing like Lola. Her body was firm and athletic, her radiance so much that he felt sure she emitted an actual glow sometimes. She couldn’t be seductive if she tried.
"I missed you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "It's not fair that you need to take an extra class every week. I barely get to see you now."
"It is necessary if I want to be of any use to the League," he answered, returning her kiss with one on the mouth. She was wearing strawberry flavored lip gloss. "Between my weak telekinesis and my poor fighting skills, I wouldn’t last one battle with the most lame of super villains." One evening with the Gold Swami had left him properly humbled. The tiny woman could do things he had never even dreamed possible, and he was beginning to understand how much he had hindered his progress by trying to hide and ignore his powers.
"You need to practice," America agreed. "I can't go around dating a wimp, now can I?"
"That makes me feel really good about myself," he said, and she grinned and took off to meet with Cloud, who had just entered the room. Lawrence saw Torch sitting on the bleachers, his hands still heavily bandaged. He went over to sit down next to his friend. "How are you doing?"
"M-managing."
"Good."
"I'm going to have to go to physical therapy for a few weeks, but the doctors don’t think I'm going to suh-suffer long term."
"That's good too," Lawrence offered.
"The League is arranging--arranging both therapy and training for me," Torch continued, looking dejected. "I've b-been in therapy for thirteen years. I don’t think it's helping any." Torch didn’t offer anymore details, and Lawrence didn’t ask, though he was highly curious.
As soon as class started Lawrence had to concentrate on his stance and
footing, and didn’t have time to dwell on Torch, or America and Lola for that matter. That was probably a good thing.
*******
Lola both looked forward to and dreaded Friday night. She loved spending time with Lawrence, but Glory was right. He wasn’t her type, at all. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, and she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Maybe it didn’t matter.
He met her at a little Italian restaurant downtown. Luigi’s was authentic--down to the checkered tablecloths and candles in bottles. Lola had found it with Glory before school had started, back when it was more normal between them and she actually saw her best friend. That’s why you’re attracted to him, she told herself, watching him pull up to the curb in a disgusting white pickup truck. You’re just lonely. “Maybe I should get an actual puppy instead.”
Lawrence looked nervous and cute. He was usually scruffy, but he had tried to clean himself up and was wearing a button-up black shirt (un-tucked) and jeans. “You’re beautiful,” he offered. She was just wearing her school clothes for that day--knee-high black boots and grey tights under a short black dress--but he didn’t seem to care.
“It’s no big deal,” she offered.
“You always look so…polished.” She wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, so she just smiled, and he opened the door for her and they went inside.
Once they were seated Lawrence looked at the menu and his eyes widened at the prices. She could see him begin to do calculations in his head. “Don’t worry about it,” she offered. “Its my treat.”
He blushed. “You can’t pay--”
“Sure I can,” she shot back immediately. “I asked you out, remember? I do the asking, I do the buying.” He looked like he was going to argue. “Just drop it,” she ordered, and he did.
When the waiter came Lola ordered a bottle of wine. “ID please?” he asked her. He didn’t look much older.
“He’s got you there Lola,” Lawrence remarked.
If she were by herself she could simply force the man to bring her a bottle, but Lawrence had his eye on her, watching what she did next. She reached for her purse and pulled out a fifty. “You’ll have another one on the table at the end of the night if you bring me a bottle of your best.”
He glanced around the restaurant before accepting the bill. “I’ll be happy to,” he said, and disappeared.
Lawrence was staring at her.
“If you give anyone enough money, they’ll do whatever you want,” she explained.
“I wish I could throw around money like that,” Lawrence said, looking down at his menu.
“My mother is Jolie Marriweather,” she offered. “She’s a famous writer.”
“Never heard of her,” he said.
“It’s always shocking how often I hear that.” She hid a grin. Her mother might enjoy brainwashing people into thinking she was someone special, but Lola kept up the story only because announcing to your date that your mother was a bank robber tended to make the evening weird.
When the wine arrived Lawrence took a sip and nodded. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a little scary sometimes, Lola,” he said.
“Is that bad or good?”
He swallows a gulp of wine. “I wish I knew.”
*****
Lawrence felt awkward when Lola forked over a small fortune for dinner, but she didn’t seem too concerned about it, so he tried not to be either. After they ate Lola suggested they take a walk, as it was uncharacteristically warm for October.
Downtown was well lit, and he was a super hero after all, so Lawrence agreed, and they fell in step together down the sidewalk. He felt her freeze for a moment when he slipped his hand into hers, and he dropped it immediately. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“No, it’s okay,” she answered. “I’m just not used to the idea of hand-holding.”
“You’ve never held hands with anyone before?” He assumed that was what girls liked to do--whenever he was with America her hand seemed to gravitate towards his.
“I don’t usually date guys who are into…holding hands.”
He didn’t want to ask, but was compelled to anyway. “So what are they into?” She gave him a wicked grin, and glanced around them. Though it was late there were still people out and about. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the doorway of a boutique that had already closed for the night. Her body was pressed up close against him, and he stared into her big dark eyes. “Lola?”
She kissed him lightly, cupping his cheek with one hand. “You are adorable,” she whispered. “So not my type.” Her lips were close to his--if he just leaned forward a few centimeters…
“Then why are you here?” he managed to ask.
“Have you ever been corrupted?” she asked. He shook his head. “Do you want to be?” All Lawrence could do was nod, and she leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his, and it was all over from there. He had never been kissed like that before. Granted, before joining the League he had never been kissed, but Lawrence knew that Lola was something special.
He found himself clutching her tightly against him, as his mouth explored her lips and tongue before trekking further to taste her neck. He held her tight around the waist but was afraid to let his hands stray elsewhere, because he knew that she was going to realize that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and laugh in his face.
Behind them something crashed, and Lola jumped, knocking her forehead into his. “Ow,” she said, and laughed, pulling away. “What was that?”
Lawrence rubbed his forehead and turned to see what the issue was. What had once been a neat shop window, mannequins lined up sporting the latest fall fashions, was now a mess. All of the dummies had fallen into a heap, white plastic limbs sticking up everywhere. “Must have been a chain reaction,” Lawrence offered. “One fell and the rest followed.” Or he had knocked them over. Like the floating coffee cup. Was being a hero really worth not being normal?
“Weird,” she offered. “I wonder how they fell.” But she didn’t wonder too long, because she was grinning at him. It was an odd, honest sort of smile, not like her usual seductive expressions. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been sufficiently corrupted,” Lawrence offered. “Thank you.”
Lola laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“But we’d better head back. Everything is closing now--we don’t want to be the only ones out here.”
“There’s safety in numbers,” she offered, but she let him lead her back to her car, a shiny black BMW. She was rich. Really rich. “It’s got a big back seat,” she offered, and he was tempted.
“Let’s save something for the second date,” he said finally.
“You are too much of a gentleman,” she offered, and kissed his cheek before getting into the car. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Definitely.”
Once she had driven away he walked back to his truck, not feeling anywhere near as exulted as he should.
*****
Glory bounced around the apartment Saturday afternoon before heading out to her League training. “Have you seen my silver dangly earrings?” she asked, popping her head into Lola’s room. Lola was wearing an oversized green t-shirt and a pair of striped underwear, stretched out on the floor surrounded with books. Her friend was so weird.
“They were by the sink a few days ago,” Lola offered.
“I tried there--I think I moved them.”
“Why do you need earrings for a combat class?”
“KP and are going to hang out afterward. I want to look my best.”
“So it’s a date?”
“Not really,” Glory said with a frown. “We’re both pretty tapped, and we get all kinds of weird looks when we go out in public wearing masks. Mostly we just hang out on campus or in Memorial Hall.” The lack of actual dates didn’t bother her--she liked the casual camaraderie they were building. Still, dressing up and going out sometime might be fun.
“I’m sure he’ll get over you not wearing earrings. Guys don’t notice that stuff anyway.”
“Well, I do,” Glory said. “Oh well. I’m gonna be late anyway.”
“Better run,” Lola agreed.
“Not a problem.” And she rushed out of the apartment, her feet barely skimming the sidewalk as she crossed the city and reached class just as Romeo did.
*****
Lawrence dreaded meeting America before their training session, but she was almost late and wasn’t able to do more than say hello before they got started, giving him an extra hour to figure out what the hell he was doing.
He had no clue. America was wonderful--beautiful and strong, a goddess. And she was honest. That was the most painful thing. She was so true, and he was…not. But he didn’t want to break up with her. She understood what it was like to have powers, to be in the program. How long could he really hide his true identity from Lola before she started suspecting something?
And Lola. What if he turned out to be a disappointment to her? What if she kept wanting to go out to fancy restaurants that he couldn’t afford? The idea of getting a job while both training and going to school was ridiculous. He could never be what she wanted. America was the rational choice. They could be together, training for the League, and down the line, once they were sure, they could reveal their true identities to each other and go on and have a real life with no secrets and no lies.
****
Later that afternoon America cuddled up next to him in the lounge, watching TV. Torch was in the room, trying to make himself disappear in the corner, but Chameleon sat on the other couch eating chips and slurping on a soda. She kept smiling and winking at them. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” he whispered into America’s ear.
“Why?”
“You know,” he said. “So we can be alone.” He let his hand fall onto her upper thigh, but she pushed it away.
“Be good.” She was smiling, but serious. And he longed for the few minutes with Lola in that doorway, or in her back seat.
I’m doomed.
*****
A/N:
Okay. I'm really sorry about the last chapter--it was supposed to go up on monday and somehow I didnt hit the 'post' button. It's been sitting done and ready all week. I had a nasty stomach virus over thanksgiving, so I wasnt thinking about Secret Identities at all while I was throwing up...and this week has been hectic. I have two papers due on monday and two exams on tuesday, and then glorious christmas break. This is my first semester as a full time student in almost 8 years, and did it ever kick my ass.
So...this is where Lawrence might start bothering ppl. I definitely do not condone cheating on your girlfriend because she wont put out, but w/ these 3 characters its so funny I dont really care. I have the whole story plotted out, except for what happens between these 3. I'm not sure how it's going to end.
A note on Torch's stutter. I definitely think he should have one as a character. It is however, damn annoying to write, and probably to read too, so he doesn't do it a lot--you can just pretend he does.
"Hi," he said, and she resisted the urge to kiss him in greeting. What was she thinking?
Glory was right. He was no Antonio, no Jean-Luc. Why on earth did she find him so fascinating? She tried to quell the nervous fluttering in her chest. Antonio had never done this to her. "Hello, Lawrence," she said, trying to stay cool. "Coffee?"
"Of course." They walked together in companionable silence.
"How was your weekend?" he asked her eventually.
"Uneventful," she said. The truth was, she had taken the Lotus out for a joy ride and had to mind control herself out of not one, but two speeding tickets. "Studying, mostly. What about you?"
"The same."
"We are boring people," she offered, and he laughed a little too readily. "Lawrence?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want to go out? Like on a date?" She hadn't had any intentions on asking him, the invitation blurting out of her mouth by pure instinct. He stopped dead on the stairs they were climbing down.
"Are you serious?"
"I think so."
"I thought you just wanted to be friends. We've been having coffee for two weeks now...you didn't even want the first cup if I remember correctly."
"Well, I changed my mind," she said. "Do you want to go out with me or what? I can be a lot of fun." She gave him her best seductive smile. It usually had a melting effect on men, and this was no exception. She had to grab onto his arm to keep him from stumbling down the stairs.
"I guess we could go out."
"Great. What are you doing Wednesday night? " Glory would be at her League meeting until late--Lola would have the apartment to herself.
"I can't on Wednesday," he said quickly. "I have Friday free."
"Friday it is," she said with a smile. "You still want that coffee?" He nodded. "Great. Don’t fall down the stairs anymore."
*****
Lawrence could hardly believe his luck. The beautiful, sexy, wonderful Lola wanted to go on a date--with short, dweebish him. He felt like he could float as high as Cloud, but one small dread kept him grounded. America. He wasn’t against lying in general--it was a necessary evil when it came to keeping his two identities separate--but going out with another girl behind America's back seemed a little bit more severe.
We never said we were exclusive, he thought to himself as he walked to Memorial Hall for their Tuesday night class with Romeo. And for all I know Lola and I won't work out. There is no reason to feel the least bit guilty.
The thought was of little comfort when America ran to meet him, all smiles and blond hair and innocence. She was nothing like Lola. Her body was firm and athletic, her radiance so much that he felt sure she emitted an actual glow sometimes. She couldn’t be seductive if she tried.
"I missed you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "It's not fair that you need to take an extra class every week. I barely get to see you now."
"It is necessary if I want to be of any use to the League," he answered, returning her kiss with one on the mouth. She was wearing strawberry flavored lip gloss. "Between my weak telekinesis and my poor fighting skills, I wouldn’t last one battle with the most lame of super villains." One evening with the Gold Swami had left him properly humbled. The tiny woman could do things he had never even dreamed possible, and he was beginning to understand how much he had hindered his progress by trying to hide and ignore his powers.
"You need to practice," America agreed. "I can't go around dating a wimp, now can I?"
"That makes me feel really good about myself," he said, and she grinned and took off to meet with Cloud, who had just entered the room. Lawrence saw Torch sitting on the bleachers, his hands still heavily bandaged. He went over to sit down next to his friend. "How are you doing?"
"M-managing."
"Good."
"I'm going to have to go to physical therapy for a few weeks, but the doctors don’t think I'm going to suh-suffer long term."
"That's good too," Lawrence offered.
"The League is arranging--arranging both therapy and training for me," Torch continued, looking dejected. "I've b-been in therapy for thirteen years. I don’t think it's helping any." Torch didn’t offer anymore details, and Lawrence didn’t ask, though he was highly curious.
As soon as class started Lawrence had to concentrate on his stance and
footing, and didn’t have time to dwell on Torch, or America and Lola for that matter. That was probably a good thing.
*******
Lola both looked forward to and dreaded Friday night. She loved spending time with Lawrence, but Glory was right. He wasn’t her type, at all. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, and she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Maybe it didn’t matter.
He met her at a little Italian restaurant downtown. Luigi’s was authentic--down to the checkered tablecloths and candles in bottles. Lola had found it with Glory before school had started, back when it was more normal between them and she actually saw her best friend. That’s why you’re attracted to him, she told herself, watching him pull up to the curb in a disgusting white pickup truck. You’re just lonely. “Maybe I should get an actual puppy instead.”
Lawrence looked nervous and cute. He was usually scruffy, but he had tried to clean himself up and was wearing a button-up black shirt (un-tucked) and jeans. “You’re beautiful,” he offered. She was just wearing her school clothes for that day--knee-high black boots and grey tights under a short black dress--but he didn’t seem to care.
“It’s no big deal,” she offered.
“You always look so…polished.” She wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, so she just smiled, and he opened the door for her and they went inside.
Once they were seated Lawrence looked at the menu and his eyes widened at the prices. She could see him begin to do calculations in his head. “Don’t worry about it,” she offered. “Its my treat.”
He blushed. “You can’t pay--”
“Sure I can,” she shot back immediately. “I asked you out, remember? I do the asking, I do the buying.” He looked like he was going to argue. “Just drop it,” she ordered, and he did.
When the waiter came Lola ordered a bottle of wine. “ID please?” he asked her. He didn’t look much older.
“He’s got you there Lola,” Lawrence remarked.
If she were by herself she could simply force the man to bring her a bottle, but Lawrence had his eye on her, watching what she did next. She reached for her purse and pulled out a fifty. “You’ll have another one on the table at the end of the night if you bring me a bottle of your best.”
He glanced around the restaurant before accepting the bill. “I’ll be happy to,” he said, and disappeared.
Lawrence was staring at her.
“If you give anyone enough money, they’ll do whatever you want,” she explained.
“I wish I could throw around money like that,” Lawrence said, looking down at his menu.
“My mother is Jolie Marriweather,” she offered. “She’s a famous writer.”
“Never heard of her,” he said.
“It’s always shocking how often I hear that.” She hid a grin. Her mother might enjoy brainwashing people into thinking she was someone special, but Lola kept up the story only because announcing to your date that your mother was a bank robber tended to make the evening weird.
When the wine arrived Lawrence took a sip and nodded. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a little scary sometimes, Lola,” he said.
“Is that bad or good?”
He swallows a gulp of wine. “I wish I knew.”
*****
Lawrence felt awkward when Lola forked over a small fortune for dinner, but she didn’t seem too concerned about it, so he tried not to be either. After they ate Lola suggested they take a walk, as it was uncharacteristically warm for October.
Downtown was well lit, and he was a super hero after all, so Lawrence agreed, and they fell in step together down the sidewalk. He felt her freeze for a moment when he slipped his hand into hers, and he dropped it immediately. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“No, it’s okay,” she answered. “I’m just not used to the idea of hand-holding.”
“You’ve never held hands with anyone before?” He assumed that was what girls liked to do--whenever he was with America her hand seemed to gravitate towards his.
“I don’t usually date guys who are into…holding hands.”
He didn’t want to ask, but was compelled to anyway. “So what are they into?” She gave him a wicked grin, and glanced around them. Though it was late there were still people out and about. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the doorway of a boutique that had already closed for the night. Her body was pressed up close against him, and he stared into her big dark eyes. “Lola?”
She kissed him lightly, cupping his cheek with one hand. “You are adorable,” she whispered. “So not my type.” Her lips were close to his--if he just leaned forward a few centimeters…
“Then why are you here?” he managed to ask.
“Have you ever been corrupted?” she asked. He shook his head. “Do you want to be?” All Lawrence could do was nod, and she leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his, and it was all over from there. He had never been kissed like that before. Granted, before joining the League he had never been kissed, but Lawrence knew that Lola was something special.
He found himself clutching her tightly against him, as his mouth explored her lips and tongue before trekking further to taste her neck. He held her tight around the waist but was afraid to let his hands stray elsewhere, because he knew that she was going to realize that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and laugh in his face.
Behind them something crashed, and Lola jumped, knocking her forehead into his. “Ow,” she said, and laughed, pulling away. “What was that?”
Lawrence rubbed his forehead and turned to see what the issue was. What had once been a neat shop window, mannequins lined up sporting the latest fall fashions, was now a mess. All of the dummies had fallen into a heap, white plastic limbs sticking up everywhere. “Must have been a chain reaction,” Lawrence offered. “One fell and the rest followed.” Or he had knocked them over. Like the floating coffee cup. Was being a hero really worth not being normal?
“Weird,” she offered. “I wonder how they fell.” But she didn’t wonder too long, because she was grinning at him. It was an odd, honest sort of smile, not like her usual seductive expressions. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been sufficiently corrupted,” Lawrence offered. “Thank you.”
Lola laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“But we’d better head back. Everything is closing now--we don’t want to be the only ones out here.”
“There’s safety in numbers,” she offered, but she let him lead her back to her car, a shiny black BMW. She was rich. Really rich. “It’s got a big back seat,” she offered, and he was tempted.
“Let’s save something for the second date,” he said finally.
“You are too much of a gentleman,” she offered, and kissed his cheek before getting into the car. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Definitely.”
Once she had driven away he walked back to his truck, not feeling anywhere near as exulted as he should.
*****
Glory bounced around the apartment Saturday afternoon before heading out to her League training. “Have you seen my silver dangly earrings?” she asked, popping her head into Lola’s room. Lola was wearing an oversized green t-shirt and a pair of striped underwear, stretched out on the floor surrounded with books. Her friend was so weird.
“They were by the sink a few days ago,” Lola offered.
“I tried there--I think I moved them.”
“Why do you need earrings for a combat class?”
“KP and are going to hang out afterward. I want to look my best.”
“So it’s a date?”
“Not really,” Glory said with a frown. “We’re both pretty tapped, and we get all kinds of weird looks when we go out in public wearing masks. Mostly we just hang out on campus or in Memorial Hall.” The lack of actual dates didn’t bother her--she liked the casual camaraderie they were building. Still, dressing up and going out sometime might be fun.
“I’m sure he’ll get over you not wearing earrings. Guys don’t notice that stuff anyway.”
“Well, I do,” Glory said. “Oh well. I’m gonna be late anyway.”
“Better run,” Lola agreed.
“Not a problem.” And she rushed out of the apartment, her feet barely skimming the sidewalk as she crossed the city and reached class just as Romeo did.
*****
Lawrence dreaded meeting America before their training session, but she was almost late and wasn’t able to do more than say hello before they got started, giving him an extra hour to figure out what the hell he was doing.
He had no clue. America was wonderful--beautiful and strong, a goddess. And she was honest. That was the most painful thing. She was so true, and he was…not. But he didn’t want to break up with her. She understood what it was like to have powers, to be in the program. How long could he really hide his true identity from Lola before she started suspecting something?
And Lola. What if he turned out to be a disappointment to her? What if she kept wanting to go out to fancy restaurants that he couldn’t afford? The idea of getting a job while both training and going to school was ridiculous. He could never be what she wanted. America was the rational choice. They could be together, training for the League, and down the line, once they were sure, they could reveal their true identities to each other and go on and have a real life with no secrets and no lies.
****
Later that afternoon America cuddled up next to him in the lounge, watching TV. Torch was in the room, trying to make himself disappear in the corner, but Chameleon sat on the other couch eating chips and slurping on a soda. She kept smiling and winking at them. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” he whispered into America’s ear.
“Why?”
“You know,” he said. “So we can be alone.” He let his hand fall onto her upper thigh, but she pushed it away.
“Be good.” She was smiling, but serious. And he longed for the few minutes with Lola in that doorway, or in her back seat.
I’m doomed.
*****
A/N:
Okay. I'm really sorry about the last chapter--it was supposed to go up on monday and somehow I didnt hit the 'post' button. It's been sitting done and ready all week. I had a nasty stomach virus over thanksgiving, so I wasnt thinking about Secret Identities at all while I was throwing up...and this week has been hectic. I have two papers due on monday and two exams on tuesday, and then glorious christmas break. This is my first semester as a full time student in almost 8 years, and did it ever kick my ass.
So...this is where Lawrence might start bothering ppl. I definitely do not condone cheating on your girlfriend because she wont put out, but w/ these 3 characters its so funny I dont really care. I have the whole story plotted out, except for what happens between these 3. I'm not sure how it's going to end.
A note on Torch's stutter. I definitely think he should have one as a character. It is however, damn annoying to write, and probably to read too, so he doesn't do it a lot--you can just pretend he does.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Ch. 9 Week 7
Lawrence didn’t think he was going to have any trouble passing his aptitude test. He was so nervous there wasn’t a single small object in the conference room that wasn’t moving. The fake plant in the corner quivered slightly, and he had set a pencil spinning in the air in front of him. When the door opened Lawrence jumped, and the pencil flew through the air, burying itself halfway into the plaster wall next to the doorjamb. Valkyrie glanced at the pencil and stepped into the room. “Anymore surprises?” she asked.
“Sorry.” Lawrence grabbed at the fluttering pages of his Calculus book sitting in front of him. Behind Valkyrie was a squat, indeterminate person of either gender. The dwarf was dressed in an off-white tunic and loose pants and wore his or her hair in a long grey plait.
“This is the Golden Swami,” Valkyrie introduced.
“Pleased to meet you,” the Swami said with a slight Indian accent and Lawrence was relieved to hear a distinctly female voice coming from her throat, and also noticed dangling gold earrings and a glittering nose stud that suggested that she was indeed a woman. “So you are The Kinetic Professor?” She struggled into a too-tall chair.
“Yes.”
She had a large bag with her and she opened it and began to set out objects
in front of her--a baseball, a few hand weights of various sizes, an orange. She spoke as she unpacked the bag. “When did you first notice your powers?”
“Um, fourteen.”
“Do you remember the circumstances in which they were revealed?”
He felt himself color behind his mask. “Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she offered. “Masturbation is a healthy part of any normal sex drive.” Before he could respond she continued. “How often do you practice?” He stared at her. “Your telekinetic abilities. How often do you practice them?”
“Oh, um, sometimes if I don’t feel like getting up I’ll use them to get a book or something…I guess haven’t had a lot of practice.”
“This shouldn’t take long then,” she said, pursing her lips. Lawrence was able to roll the baseball across the table and lift the one and two pound weights, but that was about it.
“Peel the orange,” The Swami ordered.
“Peel it? With my mind?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Try.” Lawrence stared stupidly at the orange. He knew how to move things. He couldn’t dismantle something just by thinking it. He tried to do as she asked, but only succeeded in floating it a foot off the table. “I can’t,” he said finally, and the orange bounced off the table and hit the floor.
A moment later the orange was hovering in the middle of the table. Lawrence watched as the peel began to pull away from the fruit in a neat spiral and fall to the table. The Swami let the peeled orange drop down in front of her and suddenly the segments of orange simply fell away from each other, perfectly dissected. The Swami picked up one of the sections and popped it into her mouth. “You need to stop being afraid of your talents,” she explained, a bit of orange juice squirting out between her teeth. “I will teach you.” She glanced at Valkyrie. “So much for my retirement.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Valkyrie offered.
“I like having students,” the Swami assured, still eating her orange. “Teaching touches the sadist in me.” She looked up at Lawrence. “Are you free Monday evenings?” He was running out of free evenings, but nodded anyway. “Good. Six o’ clock, room 137. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The Swami’s mouth broke into a smile. “I love it when they call me ‘ma’am.’ Make sure you practice.”
Lawrence nodded and collected up his book bag. “Very pleased to meet you,” he managed to sputter as he left the room.
America was waiting for him in the hallway. “How did it go?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I have to take classes.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”
America shrugged. “I don’t know either. I was going too fast for Stone’s radar gun.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Not to brag or anything.”
“You would never brag,” he said.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said, but gave him a smile that made her glow. “I am Glorious.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. ’Glorious’ was her favorite word. “Yeah. I know you are. Let’s go get some food.” She clutched his arm tightly as they walked down the hall together, any arguments from the previous week forgotten.
“I hope Torch does okay on his,” Lawrence added.
“He’s very scatter-brained, isn’t he?” America mused. “And he doesn’t talk much, I guess because of his stutter.”
“He’s had a hard time of things. He told me a bit about his life.”
“Really?” America said with surprise. “We’re not supposed to--”
“It wasn’t anything specific,” Lawrence said. “It’s just--his life has been rough.”
They made their way to the lounge downstairs. The girls had started taking turns cooking--Lawrence knew there was a big pot of leftover chili in the fridge. He was glad of the magically renewing fridge. He didn’t have time for a job, and even though the League was paying for his school and dorm room, he was still running low on funds. He knew America was in the same situation.
He forgot about money and food as soon as they stepped into the lounge. Torch was sitting in the middle of the now-blackened love seat, staring at his hands. The skin was blistered and raw. A few scorched remnants of his clothes remained, but the fire-retardant bodysuit he wore underneath had protected the rest of him. Black stood aside holding a spent fire extinguisher. “What happened!” America ran to Torch’s side but he pulled away.
“D-don’t come any closer!” He shouted. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to catch you on fire too?”
“He was blazing when I got here,” Black explained, setting aside the extinguisher. “I take it his assessment did not go well. This place is so screwed up--it took me forever to find an extinguisher.”
“I’m okay now,” Torch said. “You can g-go.”
“You’re not okay,” America said. “Look at your hands!”
“It happens all the time. I’ll be ok-kay.”
“No,” Lawrence agreed. “You need to go to the hospital. Those burns could
get nasty if they become infected, and you must be in a lot of pain.” He and America both took him by the shoulders and eased him up. Obviously in too much pain to protest, Torch went with them.
“We can take my car,” Black offered. “I’m parked at the loading dock out back.” Lawrence looked over at him, surprised that he had offered his assistance. The young man in the black suit and dark glasses hadn’t exactly been unfriendly, but he didn’t talk much either.
“Thank you,” Lawrence said.
Black’s car was large and black--completely unsurprising. Lawrence and Glory slid into the roomy back seat with Torch between them. Lawrence hoped that now someone was taking care of him, Torch was of no danger to anyone.
When they got to the hospital Black drove past the emergency entrance. “Um, we were supposed to pull in back there,” Lawrence offered.
“Because four people in masks and costumes would be a normal thing to see in the emergency room,” Black replied. Lawrence decided not to point out that Black looked like a government spook, not a super hero.
Black pulled up to a nondescript door on the side of the building. There was no sign, and when Lawrence pulled on the door it was locked. Black pushed a button on the intercom next to the door. “Ms. X sent us,” he said, and the door buzzed open.
“How did you know about this?” America asked, struggling with Lawrence to hold up Torch. Apparently he had gone into shock at some point during the ride, and was barely walking.
“The important thing is now you know too,” he said. An orderly appeared right inside the doorway with a wheelchair and helped Torch into it. The three heroes followed them into a small but well decorated lobby. The orderly wheeled Torch through a set of double doors, but instead of following Lawrence stopped to take in the place.
Black immediately tossed himself into one of the chairs and picked up a magazine. Lawrence took America by the hand and they walked up to the registration desk. “What is this place?” he asked the receptionist.
She blinked at him. “Why the League’s private hospital of course,” she said. “What happened to your friend?”
“He caught himself on fire.”
“Ah. He must be Torch,” she said, turning to her computer. “We were warned that we had a pyrokinetic in the training program.”
“Come sit down,” Black called without looking up from his magazine. “Have some coffee.” Lawrence noted an expensive coffee machine on a table, along with a tray of pastries and muffins.
“Why didn’t Stone and Valkyrie tell us about this place?” America asked Black, while Lawrence still wondered how Black knew.
“We’re not in the league yet,” Black said. “They’re not going to tell us all their secrets, now are they?”
“I think a secret hospital is one they should have let us in on,” America said, a hard edge to her voice.
“I’m not going to disagree,” Black replied.
“I hate all this secrecy!” America burst out suddenly. “It’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t fair,” Black agreed, still not looking up.
America bit back a scream of frustration. Lawrence grabbed her by the hand and pulled her way. She gripped his hand too tightly. “Why don’t you go do a few laps around the building?” he suggested.
“Why?”
“To calm down?” In her eyes he could see defiance, but eventually she conceded.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“I’ll check on Torch,” he told her, and America left through the way they came. Lawrence glanced at the receptionist, who was working on her computer, so he stepped through the double doors.
The doors opened into a small area with a few beds in it and branched into two hallways. Someone in nurse scrubs went into a room down one hall, so Lawrence followed. Torch was laying in the bed still in his costume, a woman in a white coat examining his hands. “Is he going to be okay?” Lawrence demanded.
The doctor looked up. “It’s not so bad. Second degree, probably. But he’s had them before.”
Torch nodded slightly. They already had an IV in his arm. “It’s okay,” he told Lawrence. “I’m used to it.” He let his head fall back on the bed. “What’s a little more scar tissue?”
“We’ll keep him here for a day or two, just to make sure,” the doctor continued. “He’ll be fine.”
“Do you want us to stay?” Lawrence asked Torch.
“They gave me morphine--I’m good.”
Lawrence smiled through his worry. “You’re not stuttering.”
“That happens on morphine,” Torch said. “Really, I’m fine. Go on.” Lawrence turned to leave. “Hey, KP?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. And thank Black for putting me out. It was really decent of him.”
“Sure thing. America and I will come check on you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
******
Glory started with a few laps around the building, but after nearly colliding with an ambulance she slowed down and widened her loop to include the whole block, moving slow enough that people could at least see her, and she instinctually moved around them with no problem. She didn’t know how Black knew about the hospital, and she didn’t care. She only cared that she didn’t know about it. She could understand them not being allowed into headquarters right away, but this was medical care. It was important. What if they had gone to the normal emergency room and Torch had burnt his face and they cut his mask off? What would have happened then?
She ran for about half an hour, but her anger had not cooled, when, going past Black’s car, KP’s arm shot out and caught her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. “Sorry,” he offered. “I tried calling your name the last time you passed, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”
“I was thinking.”
“Torch is going to be okay,” he said. “They’re keeping him overnight
though. Let’s go.”
“I think I’ll just run home.” She looked away from the hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I know you’re stressed too, but I need to run this out. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” he said, and she kissed him to make up for it. “Call me later.” He climbed into the passenger seat of Black’s car, and America began to run again, this time straight--straight through the city and into the suburbs before her anger abated, and she was too tired to run back. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and called Lola for a ride, sitting down under a tree in someone’s front yard to wait.
A/N:
So sorry for last week! This is last weeks update, today, which should have been up last week, except I had the plague and its finals and everything is a mess.
This week's chapter will be up either later today or monday, depending on how my english lit class goes.
“Sorry.” Lawrence grabbed at the fluttering pages of his Calculus book sitting in front of him. Behind Valkyrie was a squat, indeterminate person of either gender. The dwarf was dressed in an off-white tunic and loose pants and wore his or her hair in a long grey plait.
“This is the Golden Swami,” Valkyrie introduced.
“Pleased to meet you,” the Swami said with a slight Indian accent and Lawrence was relieved to hear a distinctly female voice coming from her throat, and also noticed dangling gold earrings and a glittering nose stud that suggested that she was indeed a woman. “So you are The Kinetic Professor?” She struggled into a too-tall chair.
“Yes.”
She had a large bag with her and she opened it and began to set out objects
in front of her--a baseball, a few hand weights of various sizes, an orange. She spoke as she unpacked the bag. “When did you first notice your powers?”
“Um, fourteen.”
“Do you remember the circumstances in which they were revealed?”
He felt himself color behind his mask. “Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she offered. “Masturbation is a healthy part of any normal sex drive.” Before he could respond she continued. “How often do you practice?” He stared at her. “Your telekinetic abilities. How often do you practice them?”
“Oh, um, sometimes if I don’t feel like getting up I’ll use them to get a book or something…I guess haven’t had a lot of practice.”
“This shouldn’t take long then,” she said, pursing her lips. Lawrence was able to roll the baseball across the table and lift the one and two pound weights, but that was about it.
“Peel the orange,” The Swami ordered.
“Peel it? With my mind?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Try.” Lawrence stared stupidly at the orange. He knew how to move things. He couldn’t dismantle something just by thinking it. He tried to do as she asked, but only succeeded in floating it a foot off the table. “I can’t,” he said finally, and the orange bounced off the table and hit the floor.
A moment later the orange was hovering in the middle of the table. Lawrence watched as the peel began to pull away from the fruit in a neat spiral and fall to the table. The Swami let the peeled orange drop down in front of her and suddenly the segments of orange simply fell away from each other, perfectly dissected. The Swami picked up one of the sections and popped it into her mouth. “You need to stop being afraid of your talents,” she explained, a bit of orange juice squirting out between her teeth. “I will teach you.” She glanced at Valkyrie. “So much for my retirement.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Valkyrie offered.
“I like having students,” the Swami assured, still eating her orange. “Teaching touches the sadist in me.” She looked up at Lawrence. “Are you free Monday evenings?” He was running out of free evenings, but nodded anyway. “Good. Six o’ clock, room 137. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The Swami’s mouth broke into a smile. “I love it when they call me ‘ma’am.’ Make sure you practice.”
Lawrence nodded and collected up his book bag. “Very pleased to meet you,” he managed to sputter as he left the room.
America was waiting for him in the hallway. “How did it go?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I have to take classes.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”
America shrugged. “I don’t know either. I was going too fast for Stone’s radar gun.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Not to brag or anything.”
“You would never brag,” he said.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said, but gave him a smile that made her glow. “I am Glorious.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. ’Glorious’ was her favorite word. “Yeah. I know you are. Let’s go get some food.” She clutched his arm tightly as they walked down the hall together, any arguments from the previous week forgotten.
“I hope Torch does okay on his,” Lawrence added.
“He’s very scatter-brained, isn’t he?” America mused. “And he doesn’t talk much, I guess because of his stutter.”
“He’s had a hard time of things. He told me a bit about his life.”
“Really?” America said with surprise. “We’re not supposed to--”
“It wasn’t anything specific,” Lawrence said. “It’s just--his life has been rough.”
They made their way to the lounge downstairs. The girls had started taking turns cooking--Lawrence knew there was a big pot of leftover chili in the fridge. He was glad of the magically renewing fridge. He didn’t have time for a job, and even though the League was paying for his school and dorm room, he was still running low on funds. He knew America was in the same situation.
He forgot about money and food as soon as they stepped into the lounge. Torch was sitting in the middle of the now-blackened love seat, staring at his hands. The skin was blistered and raw. A few scorched remnants of his clothes remained, but the fire-retardant bodysuit he wore underneath had protected the rest of him. Black stood aside holding a spent fire extinguisher. “What happened!” America ran to Torch’s side but he pulled away.
“D-don’t come any closer!” He shouted. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to catch you on fire too?”
“He was blazing when I got here,” Black explained, setting aside the extinguisher. “I take it his assessment did not go well. This place is so screwed up--it took me forever to find an extinguisher.”
“I’m okay now,” Torch said. “You can g-go.”
“You’re not okay,” America said. “Look at your hands!”
“It happens all the time. I’ll be ok-kay.”
“No,” Lawrence agreed. “You need to go to the hospital. Those burns could
get nasty if they become infected, and you must be in a lot of pain.” He and America both took him by the shoulders and eased him up. Obviously in too much pain to protest, Torch went with them.
“We can take my car,” Black offered. “I’m parked at the loading dock out back.” Lawrence looked over at him, surprised that he had offered his assistance. The young man in the black suit and dark glasses hadn’t exactly been unfriendly, but he didn’t talk much either.
“Thank you,” Lawrence said.
Black’s car was large and black--completely unsurprising. Lawrence and Glory slid into the roomy back seat with Torch between them. Lawrence hoped that now someone was taking care of him, Torch was of no danger to anyone.
When they got to the hospital Black drove past the emergency entrance. “Um, we were supposed to pull in back there,” Lawrence offered.
“Because four people in masks and costumes would be a normal thing to see in the emergency room,” Black replied. Lawrence decided not to point out that Black looked like a government spook, not a super hero.
Black pulled up to a nondescript door on the side of the building. There was no sign, and when Lawrence pulled on the door it was locked. Black pushed a button on the intercom next to the door. “Ms. X sent us,” he said, and the door buzzed open.
“How did you know about this?” America asked, struggling with Lawrence to hold up Torch. Apparently he had gone into shock at some point during the ride, and was barely walking.
“The important thing is now you know too,” he said. An orderly appeared right inside the doorway with a wheelchair and helped Torch into it. The three heroes followed them into a small but well decorated lobby. The orderly wheeled Torch through a set of double doors, but instead of following Lawrence stopped to take in the place.
Black immediately tossed himself into one of the chairs and picked up a magazine. Lawrence took America by the hand and they walked up to the registration desk. “What is this place?” he asked the receptionist.
She blinked at him. “Why the League’s private hospital of course,” she said. “What happened to your friend?”
“He caught himself on fire.”
“Ah. He must be Torch,” she said, turning to her computer. “We were warned that we had a pyrokinetic in the training program.”
“Come sit down,” Black called without looking up from his magazine. “Have some coffee.” Lawrence noted an expensive coffee machine on a table, along with a tray of pastries and muffins.
“Why didn’t Stone and Valkyrie tell us about this place?” America asked Black, while Lawrence still wondered how Black knew.
“We’re not in the league yet,” Black said. “They’re not going to tell us all their secrets, now are they?”
“I think a secret hospital is one they should have let us in on,” America said, a hard edge to her voice.
“I’m not going to disagree,” Black replied.
“I hate all this secrecy!” America burst out suddenly. “It’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t fair,” Black agreed, still not looking up.
America bit back a scream of frustration. Lawrence grabbed her by the hand and pulled her way. She gripped his hand too tightly. “Why don’t you go do a few laps around the building?” he suggested.
“Why?”
“To calm down?” In her eyes he could see defiance, but eventually she conceded.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“I’ll check on Torch,” he told her, and America left through the way they came. Lawrence glanced at the receptionist, who was working on her computer, so he stepped through the double doors.
The doors opened into a small area with a few beds in it and branched into two hallways. Someone in nurse scrubs went into a room down one hall, so Lawrence followed. Torch was laying in the bed still in his costume, a woman in a white coat examining his hands. “Is he going to be okay?” Lawrence demanded.
The doctor looked up. “It’s not so bad. Second degree, probably. But he’s had them before.”
Torch nodded slightly. They already had an IV in his arm. “It’s okay,” he told Lawrence. “I’m used to it.” He let his head fall back on the bed. “What’s a little more scar tissue?”
“We’ll keep him here for a day or two, just to make sure,” the doctor continued. “He’ll be fine.”
“Do you want us to stay?” Lawrence asked Torch.
“They gave me morphine--I’m good.”
Lawrence smiled through his worry. “You’re not stuttering.”
“That happens on morphine,” Torch said. “Really, I’m fine. Go on.” Lawrence turned to leave. “Hey, KP?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. And thank Black for putting me out. It was really decent of him.”
“Sure thing. America and I will come check on you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
******
Glory started with a few laps around the building, but after nearly colliding with an ambulance she slowed down and widened her loop to include the whole block, moving slow enough that people could at least see her, and she instinctually moved around them with no problem. She didn’t know how Black knew about the hospital, and she didn’t care. She only cared that she didn’t know about it. She could understand them not being allowed into headquarters right away, but this was medical care. It was important. What if they had gone to the normal emergency room and Torch had burnt his face and they cut his mask off? What would have happened then?
She ran for about half an hour, but her anger had not cooled, when, going past Black’s car, KP’s arm shot out and caught her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. “Sorry,” he offered. “I tried calling your name the last time you passed, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”
“I was thinking.”
“Torch is going to be okay,” he said. “They’re keeping him overnight
though. Let’s go.”
“I think I’ll just run home.” She looked away from the hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I know you’re stressed too, but I need to run this out. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” he said, and she kissed him to make up for it. “Call me later.” He climbed into the passenger seat of Black’s car, and America began to run again, this time straight--straight through the city and into the suburbs before her anger abated, and she was too tired to run back. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and called Lola for a ride, sitting down under a tree in someone’s front yard to wait.
A/N:
So sorry for last week! This is last weeks update, today, which should have been up last week, except I had the plague and its finals and everything is a mess.
This week's chapter will be up either later today or monday, depending on how my english lit class goes.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Ch 8 Week 6
“What’s with you?” Glory asked Lola Tuesday morning before they left for class. The newspaper lay between them on the table while they ate--Richard Wyler’s wife was filing for divorce before he had a chance to give away her alimony. The story was all over the place--Glory didn’t know what to make of it.
“Mid-term blues?” Lola suggested, but Glory knew her friend was lying.
“Try again.”
“I don’t know,” Lola admitted with a sigh, letting Glory in for once, tired of secrets. “I just feel…empty. Alone.”
“It’s my fault!” Glory exclaimed, guilt flooding her system. “I’ve been running around doing my super hero thing, bragging about my costume, about Valkyrie and Romeo--of course you feel left out!” She should have known immediately. Lola didn’t make friends easily--Glory was probably all she had in this new place, and she’d more or less forgotten all about her.
“No, Glory,” Lola tried to say.
“You don’t have to deny it--we both know its true,” Glory continued. “I have all of these new friends and you never mention anyone--”
“I’ve met a few people,” Lola protested. “Um, three. Sort of.”
“I’ll tell you what--I do have to go to my meeting Saturday afternoon, but I’ll tell KP I’m busy, and you and I can stay in and have a proper girls’ night, okay?”
“I’m--” Lola was about to tell her no and Glory gave her a glare. “Yeah. That sounds like a great idea. Are you sure you don’t mind blowing off your date?”
“Friends have to come before boyfriends,” Glory assured, meaning it.
*****
“I saw her again,” a girl whispered to her friend behind Lola in the middle of Psychology. She was good at tuning people out, but the next thing caught her attention. “The blond girl in the mask.”
“Yeah? A friend of mine has a class with the blue one. She got special permission--no one knows what her real name is and she wears a mask all the time.”
“Weird.”
“I know. Anyone in this room could have secret powers.” Lola thought about using her secret powers to shut them up.
“I dare you to talk to one of them next time you walk by Memorial Hall. That‘s where they hang out and why no one else ever has classes there. it’s like, League headquarters.”
“The only one I want to talk to is Romeo Avenger.” There was an eruption of giggles from the two girls and the professor gave them a sharp look. “Or Dark Lothario,” her friend said, triggering more giggles. Lola put her head on her desk and groaned.
Lola knew she should have been jubilant in the days following her successful brainwashing of Richard Wyler. The day after her visit he called a press conference and announced he was giving away his fortune to save the rainforest. The city had gone crazy--the story even bumped Dark Lothario off the news for a few days. She was thrilled that her plan had worked, but she hated that no one knew that she was the cause of his new personality. As she drove her BMW to school she felt like she was driving a clunker, and she when walked across campus she felt invisible. She had changed the world a little bit that day, but no one knew except her minions. She knew that was as it should be, but it still bothered her, leaving her in a rotten mood. Once she had finished school she could take on her super villain persona full-time, but that was years and years away….
To make her day even better when she exited the classroom Lawrence Lawrence was waiting for her. “I don’t want to deal with you,” she said. “Go away.” She began to walk, but Lawrence followed behind her.
“Just give me your name,” he pleaded.
She turned around to look him in the eye. “Go away,” she repeated, this time ordering him. He faltered and blinked, as though he were fighting some sort of internal conflict.
“Not until you tell me your name.”
Lola nearly screamed with frustration. “It’s Lola, okay?”
She started walking again, moving as fast as her high heels would let her. “Lola, huh?” Lawrence said, still behind her. “That’s a good name. It’s nice to put a name with the face after all these weeks. Look, I wanted to--”
“Take me out to coffee, I know,” she said, slowing down to consider. Here was a guy who had managed to resist her on two occasions. That was interesting. She’d never met anyone--especially a male anyone--who’d been able to do that. She stopped walking in the middle of the hall, forcing everyone else to swarm around her. Lawrence surprised her by grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side before she was run over.
“Are you okay?”
“Just stress,” she offered. She studied him, looking into his soft, pleading eyes. “Okay. We’ll go out for coffee.”
*****
Lawrence sat dumbfounded and amazed, staring at Lola drinking coffee with him. Him. It was incomprehensible. He could understand America’s draw to the Kinetic Professor. He was a super hero, and she was so sweet and innocent. Lola didn’t know the meaning of either word. Why someone like her would give him the time of day was impossible to guess, but he wasn’t going to complain. She sat sideways in her seat with one knee crossed over the other, revealing long beautiful legs in grey tights under her black sweater dress.
He was staring at her legs when she realized his coffee cup was trying to float off the table top and grabbed the handle before Lola noticed.
“Are you still undecided?” she asked him. “On your major?”
“How did you--”
“We’ve been here before,” she said, her voice deadpan.
“Right. I’m a little fuzzy over--”
“Don’t worry about it.” She had the most commanding voice, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply do what he told her.
“Well,” Lawrence said, “I’m thinking I might like to teach. I like the idea of always having summer vacations, you know?”
“What level?”
“Definitely college,” he said, shuddering at the thought of teaching children--or teenagers. “I just haven’t really decided what subject…”
“From what I’ve taken so far, Psychology is fun, but Neuro-engineering is much more challenging. I’m going for a double major.”
“Psychology and Neuro-engineering?” She was beautiful and brilliant. How lucky could he get? He tried not to think about America. Because Lola, Lola was amazing.
“I’m very interested in the human mind,” she said. “I want to cover both the psychological and physiological aspects. Really, they go hand in hand.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“My roommate thinks it’s crazy.”
He laughed. “Well clearly, your roommate is an idiot.”
“I love her dearly,” Lola said, “but she is simple and naïve in her ways.”
“That’s too bad.” Lola sighed. “So what’s really wrong?” he asked her. He had a distinct feeling the only reason she had agreed to come with him was because she didn’t have the energy to say no.
“What do you think about going to school here?” she asked instead.
He shrugged. “The weather sucks.”
“I mean, with the League being here and all.”
He shrugged again, trying to be non-committal. Officially there was no training program at the University Noir, but everyone knew about it. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t bug you that there are people running around with super powers, but no one knows about it?” He shrugged again. She looked so serious holding her coffee cup with both hands. “I could have super powers, and you’d never know.”
“I think I would have noticed you running around in a mask.”
“Lola could be my secret identity. I could be anyone.”
The way she was looking at him made him nervous. He laughed to shrug it off. “And Lawrence Lawrence could be mine.”
Her laughter was real. “I couldn’t imagine a cute little thing like you fighting crime,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to get more coffee. Do you want a refill?”
*****
“A quick announcement,” Romeo said as Glory took the place between Chameleon and Cloud in the front row for their Saturday training session. “Instead of your usual meeting with Stone and Valkyrie on Wednesday you’ll each have a separate meeting while they assess your powers.” Everyone looked around at each other.
“A t-test?” Torch stuttered, and Glory looked around to see what was going to catch on fire. Above Romeo a basketball hoop burst into flames. It burnt out before anyone rushed to the fire extinguisher, bits of charred net falling to the floor in front of him.
“Calm down,” Romeo said. “You won’t be graded. The league just wants to see what levels you’re all at. Some of you might have an expert sitting in to help assess.”
“What if we don’t do well?” KP asked.
“It depends.”
“We wont be kicked out, will we?” Glory said, raising alarm.
“No one will be kicked out of the program, so you can all relax. Just see me before you leave so I can give you your assessment times and locations.”
Glory watched KP during their training with Romeo Avenger that night. They were learning how to spar and Romeo had teamed them up by height, so KP was working with Torch and Glory was paired with Chameleon. KP had barely looked at her all evening, and she was beginning to worry. “Pay attention!” Chameleon said when Glory narrowly missed being hit in the face by her friend. “With your super-speed you should be avoiding me no problem.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“How do you feel about the aptitude test next week?”
“Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten about that. “Fine. I’m actually curious to see how fast I really am. It’s never been measured.”
“I’m a little nervous.” Glory couldn’t see why. Chameleon was a very difficult person to spar with--she was the color of the bleachers behind her, and Glory found herself focusing more on her clothes to gauge where she was. “I know I’m really good at blending,” Chameleon continued. “It’s the unbending that concerns me.”
“Well, how important is that in the long run?”
“Very important, when it comes to being normal.”
They both paused at the sound of a small explosion and turned. KP and Torch were standing six feet apart with a scorch mark on the floor between them. “I’m sorry,” Torch said, his voice tiny, making him look even smaller than he normally did.
“Normalcy is overrated,” Glory said, staring at the burned floor.
She caught KP later as he was coming out of the men’s locker room, his hair damp from the shower. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey America.”
“Where’s your brain been today?”
“Trying not to get blown up,” he replied.
“Before that. You’ve been distant all day.”
“School stuff.”
“That‘s what you said last time I asked you if there was something wrong. Don‘t lie to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s real life, secret identity stuff. I’ll be better.”
This is why identities are a bad idea. They lead to secrets. She did her best to smile. “You’d better be better,” she said. “I know I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He smiled, and it seemed sincere. “Yes, you are.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.
“I have bad news though,” she said, watching for his reaction. “I have to cancel our date this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Girl issues. My best friend needs me. You understand.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t seem upset enough. Was their relationship over already? He had hardly given it enough chance to begin.
*****
It was just coffee, Lawrence told himself as he left Memorial Hall that evening, watching America go off on her own. She only walked a few paces before she was off in a blond flash, disappearing across campus. It was two cups of coffee--he’d met again with Lola on Thursday. Lola didn’t seem to have any interest in Lawrence beyond friends, but he was going to take whatever he could get. I’m not doing anything wrong. He stared down the quad after America. It wasn’t cheating if nothing happened.
“KP?” Lawrence turned and saw Torch, hands behind his back. He was still wearing the fire-proof outfit Mim had found for him. Torch wore it all the time now, Lawrence noted, even under his clothes. Lawrence had seen him changing after practice--there were burns all over his slight frame. The suit protected him from himself.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to apol-apologize for nearly setting you on f-fire today.”
“It happens,” Lawrence said, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. The truth was, it had been a slightly terrifying experience.
“I know it h-happens,” Torch said. “It always happens--that’s the p-problem.”
“You’ll learn to control it,” Lawrence said, trying to be gentle. If Torch didn’t calm down he was going to set something else on fire. “That’s why we’re here.”
“P-people have tried to fix me before you know,” Torch said. “Psycho therapy, drugs--”
“I’m sorry.”
“It never worked. They had me in a stain--a stainless steel room before I came here.”
“You-you were institutionalized?”
“That was the only place I couldn’t hurt anyone but myself. I should g-go back.”
“No, no,” Lawrence said. “It’s not your fault that things catch on fire.”
“If I c-could c-control my emotions b-better it wouldn’t happen.”
“That comes with time,” Lawrence said. “Look at Chameleon or Cloud.” The former was a different color every time Lawrence looked at her, and the latter spent most of their training sessions with Romeo floating several inches to several feet above ground.
“But they c-can’t hurt anyone.”
“Not true,” Lawrence said quickly. “Cloud kicked Righteous in the head the other day, remember?”
Torch cracked a smile. “It was f-funny.”
“And I can’t control my powers very well either,” Lawrence said, finishing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you d-do anything,” Torch admitted.
“That’s because I’m not very good.” He didn’t like admitting it, but he knew it was the truth. He wasn’t looking forward to the aptitude test the next week at all. “But powerful emotions do seem to send things flying around the room.”
“So how do you avoid it?”
He remembered his floating coffee cup earlier that week. There had been a few near misses since that first cup of coffee with Lola. “I try not to feel anything.” And until America and Lola, that hadn’t been a problem.
******
Glory came home from her training that Saturday with her hands full of grocery bags. Unable to reach for the knob, she kicked on the door until Lola opened it. Lola had obviously been home for a while--she was wearing sweat pants and a tank top with no bra, her hair wet and wrapped up in a turban of a towel. “You look gorgeous,” Glory joked and handed off some of her bags.
“What did you do?” Lola asked, looking in the bags, “Rob a grocery store?”
“We need snacks for a girls night. Did you order the pizza?”
“It’ll be here in fifteen minutes. And look what I got.” She dumped Glory’s bags on the table and held up two 4 packs of wine coolers.
“How did you get those? We’re underage.”
Lola gave her a slightly wicked grin. “I can be very persuasive.”
“It’s against the law.”
“So does that mean you don’t want any?”
“I didn’t say that--lets put a movie on.”
*****
“I’m okay now,” Lola told Glory half way through their John Hughs marathon. The pizza box sat open and empty on the floor in front of them, and both girls were sipping on wine coolers.
“Will you tell me what was wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s right,” Lola said instead, ignoring the question she would like so much to answer. “I went out for coffee with a boy--twice.”
Glory let out a small squeal. “Excellent, Lola!”
“It’s not like that--he’s just a friend.”
“If it wasn’t ’like that’ you wouldn’t be telling me like its some deep dark secret. What’s he like?”
Lola mused. “Like a puppy,” she said finally. “Like a geeky little puppy.”
Glory, stifling a laugh, snorted. “That’s not your usual type.”
“My type?”
“You know--twenty-somethings with two hundred dollar haircuts and accents.”
“Not true.”
Glory rolled her eyes. “There was that guy over Christmas break last year--”
Lola smiled a little. “Antonio. That was in Italy.”
“And that French guy--”
“Jean-Luc. That was the summer of ‘09.”
“You’ve only ever had vacation boyfriends,” Glory said. “You never had one in school before. This is good for you.”
“The boys at school were lame.”
“Of course they were. Do you know how many times I had to defend you at our high school?”
“No one liked me but you,” Lola said, turning sober.
“I’m your best friend. I kinda’ have to like you.”
“I guess I was never lonely before this year because having you was enough,” Lola said, and she knew immediately that it was true. She was always so much richer than everyone else, and that put up a barrier that became taller and wider as she grew older. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have friends--she did--but Glory was the only one who really cared.
“I’m sorry I’m so busy all the time.”
“No--you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing. You always knew you were destined for greater things.” She had no right to complain about anything Glory did, when she was the one leading the lie. Glory would hate her if she knew…
“Glorious things.”
Lola smiled. “Yes. Glorious. You need to go on being Glorious. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. Besides, now I have Lawrence Lawrence to keep me company.”
Glory laughed. “His name is Lawrence Lawrence?”
******
A/N: So I've been informed that there is already a "Mindmistress" running around the internet as a webcomic, so Lola needs a new name. I want something vaguely BDSM-y, you know? Gold star to anyone who can come up with something good.
You guys got a treat this chapter--it's 3000 words long. Cool, huh? I have a feeling a lot of you are going to get mad at Lawrence in the next few chapters....but I'm having a blast with him, so dont get too mad.
“Mid-term blues?” Lola suggested, but Glory knew her friend was lying.
“Try again.”
“I don’t know,” Lola admitted with a sigh, letting Glory in for once, tired of secrets. “I just feel…empty. Alone.”
“It’s my fault!” Glory exclaimed, guilt flooding her system. “I’ve been running around doing my super hero thing, bragging about my costume, about Valkyrie and Romeo--of course you feel left out!” She should have known immediately. Lola didn’t make friends easily--Glory was probably all she had in this new place, and she’d more or less forgotten all about her.
“No, Glory,” Lola tried to say.
“You don’t have to deny it--we both know its true,” Glory continued. “I have all of these new friends and you never mention anyone--”
“I’ve met a few people,” Lola protested. “Um, three. Sort of.”
“I’ll tell you what--I do have to go to my meeting Saturday afternoon, but I’ll tell KP I’m busy, and you and I can stay in and have a proper girls’ night, okay?”
“I’m--” Lola was about to tell her no and Glory gave her a glare. “Yeah. That sounds like a great idea. Are you sure you don’t mind blowing off your date?”
“Friends have to come before boyfriends,” Glory assured, meaning it.
*****
“I saw her again,” a girl whispered to her friend behind Lola in the middle of Psychology. She was good at tuning people out, but the next thing caught her attention. “The blond girl in the mask.”
“Yeah? A friend of mine has a class with the blue one. She got special permission--no one knows what her real name is and she wears a mask all the time.”
“Weird.”
“I know. Anyone in this room could have secret powers.” Lola thought about using her secret powers to shut them up.
“I dare you to talk to one of them next time you walk by Memorial Hall. That‘s where they hang out and why no one else ever has classes there. it’s like, League headquarters.”
“The only one I want to talk to is Romeo Avenger.” There was an eruption of giggles from the two girls and the professor gave them a sharp look. “Or Dark Lothario,” her friend said, triggering more giggles. Lola put her head on her desk and groaned.
Lola knew she should have been jubilant in the days following her successful brainwashing of Richard Wyler. The day after her visit he called a press conference and announced he was giving away his fortune to save the rainforest. The city had gone crazy--the story even bumped Dark Lothario off the news for a few days. She was thrilled that her plan had worked, but she hated that no one knew that she was the cause of his new personality. As she drove her BMW to school she felt like she was driving a clunker, and she when walked across campus she felt invisible. She had changed the world a little bit that day, but no one knew except her minions. She knew that was as it should be, but it still bothered her, leaving her in a rotten mood. Once she had finished school she could take on her super villain persona full-time, but that was years and years away….
To make her day even better when she exited the classroom Lawrence Lawrence was waiting for her. “I don’t want to deal with you,” she said. “Go away.” She began to walk, but Lawrence followed behind her.
“Just give me your name,” he pleaded.
She turned around to look him in the eye. “Go away,” she repeated, this time ordering him. He faltered and blinked, as though he were fighting some sort of internal conflict.
“Not until you tell me your name.”
Lola nearly screamed with frustration. “It’s Lola, okay?”
She started walking again, moving as fast as her high heels would let her. “Lola, huh?” Lawrence said, still behind her. “That’s a good name. It’s nice to put a name with the face after all these weeks. Look, I wanted to--”
“Take me out to coffee, I know,” she said, slowing down to consider. Here was a guy who had managed to resist her on two occasions. That was interesting. She’d never met anyone--especially a male anyone--who’d been able to do that. She stopped walking in the middle of the hall, forcing everyone else to swarm around her. Lawrence surprised her by grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side before she was run over.
“Are you okay?”
“Just stress,” she offered. She studied him, looking into his soft, pleading eyes. “Okay. We’ll go out for coffee.”
*****
Lawrence sat dumbfounded and amazed, staring at Lola drinking coffee with him. Him. It was incomprehensible. He could understand America’s draw to the Kinetic Professor. He was a super hero, and she was so sweet and innocent. Lola didn’t know the meaning of either word. Why someone like her would give him the time of day was impossible to guess, but he wasn’t going to complain. She sat sideways in her seat with one knee crossed over the other, revealing long beautiful legs in grey tights under her black sweater dress.
He was staring at her legs when she realized his coffee cup was trying to float off the table top and grabbed the handle before Lola noticed.
“Are you still undecided?” she asked him. “On your major?”
“How did you--”
“We’ve been here before,” she said, her voice deadpan.
“Right. I’m a little fuzzy over--”
“Don’t worry about it.” She had the most commanding voice, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply do what he told her.
“Well,” Lawrence said, “I’m thinking I might like to teach. I like the idea of always having summer vacations, you know?”
“What level?”
“Definitely college,” he said, shuddering at the thought of teaching children--or teenagers. “I just haven’t really decided what subject…”
“From what I’ve taken so far, Psychology is fun, but Neuro-engineering is much more challenging. I’m going for a double major.”
“Psychology and Neuro-engineering?” She was beautiful and brilliant. How lucky could he get? He tried not to think about America. Because Lola, Lola was amazing.
“I’m very interested in the human mind,” she said. “I want to cover both the psychological and physiological aspects. Really, they go hand in hand.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“My roommate thinks it’s crazy.”
He laughed. “Well clearly, your roommate is an idiot.”
“I love her dearly,” Lola said, “but she is simple and naïve in her ways.”
“That’s too bad.” Lola sighed. “So what’s really wrong?” he asked her. He had a distinct feeling the only reason she had agreed to come with him was because she didn’t have the energy to say no.
“What do you think about going to school here?” she asked instead.
He shrugged. “The weather sucks.”
“I mean, with the League being here and all.”
He shrugged again, trying to be non-committal. Officially there was no training program at the University Noir, but everyone knew about it. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t bug you that there are people running around with super powers, but no one knows about it?” He shrugged again. She looked so serious holding her coffee cup with both hands. “I could have super powers, and you’d never know.”
“I think I would have noticed you running around in a mask.”
“Lola could be my secret identity. I could be anyone.”
The way she was looking at him made him nervous. He laughed to shrug it off. “And Lawrence Lawrence could be mine.”
Her laughter was real. “I couldn’t imagine a cute little thing like you fighting crime,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to get more coffee. Do you want a refill?”
*****
“A quick announcement,” Romeo said as Glory took the place between Chameleon and Cloud in the front row for their Saturday training session. “Instead of your usual meeting with Stone and Valkyrie on Wednesday you’ll each have a separate meeting while they assess your powers.” Everyone looked around at each other.
“A t-test?” Torch stuttered, and Glory looked around to see what was going to catch on fire. Above Romeo a basketball hoop burst into flames. It burnt out before anyone rushed to the fire extinguisher, bits of charred net falling to the floor in front of him.
“Calm down,” Romeo said. “You won’t be graded. The league just wants to see what levels you’re all at. Some of you might have an expert sitting in to help assess.”
“What if we don’t do well?” KP asked.
“It depends.”
“We wont be kicked out, will we?” Glory said, raising alarm.
“No one will be kicked out of the program, so you can all relax. Just see me before you leave so I can give you your assessment times and locations.”
Glory watched KP during their training with Romeo Avenger that night. They were learning how to spar and Romeo had teamed them up by height, so KP was working with Torch and Glory was paired with Chameleon. KP had barely looked at her all evening, and she was beginning to worry. “Pay attention!” Chameleon said when Glory narrowly missed being hit in the face by her friend. “With your super-speed you should be avoiding me no problem.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“How do you feel about the aptitude test next week?”
“Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten about that. “Fine. I’m actually curious to see how fast I really am. It’s never been measured.”
“I’m a little nervous.” Glory couldn’t see why. Chameleon was a very difficult person to spar with--she was the color of the bleachers behind her, and Glory found herself focusing more on her clothes to gauge where she was. “I know I’m really good at blending,” Chameleon continued. “It’s the unbending that concerns me.”
“Well, how important is that in the long run?”
“Very important, when it comes to being normal.”
They both paused at the sound of a small explosion and turned. KP and Torch were standing six feet apart with a scorch mark on the floor between them. “I’m sorry,” Torch said, his voice tiny, making him look even smaller than he normally did.
“Normalcy is overrated,” Glory said, staring at the burned floor.
She caught KP later as he was coming out of the men’s locker room, his hair damp from the shower. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey America.”
“Where’s your brain been today?”
“Trying not to get blown up,” he replied.
“Before that. You’ve been distant all day.”
“School stuff.”
“That‘s what you said last time I asked you if there was something wrong. Don‘t lie to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s real life, secret identity stuff. I’ll be better.”
This is why identities are a bad idea. They lead to secrets. She did her best to smile. “You’d better be better,” she said. “I know I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He smiled, and it seemed sincere. “Yes, you are.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.
“I have bad news though,” she said, watching for his reaction. “I have to cancel our date this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Girl issues. My best friend needs me. You understand.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t seem upset enough. Was their relationship over already? He had hardly given it enough chance to begin.
*****
It was just coffee, Lawrence told himself as he left Memorial Hall that evening, watching America go off on her own. She only walked a few paces before she was off in a blond flash, disappearing across campus. It was two cups of coffee--he’d met again with Lola on Thursday. Lola didn’t seem to have any interest in Lawrence beyond friends, but he was going to take whatever he could get. I’m not doing anything wrong. He stared down the quad after America. It wasn’t cheating if nothing happened.
“KP?” Lawrence turned and saw Torch, hands behind his back. He was still wearing the fire-proof outfit Mim had found for him. Torch wore it all the time now, Lawrence noted, even under his clothes. Lawrence had seen him changing after practice--there were burns all over his slight frame. The suit protected him from himself.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to apol-apologize for nearly setting you on f-fire today.”
“It happens,” Lawrence said, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. The truth was, it had been a slightly terrifying experience.
“I know it h-happens,” Torch said. “It always happens--that’s the p-problem.”
“You’ll learn to control it,” Lawrence said, trying to be gentle. If Torch didn’t calm down he was going to set something else on fire. “That’s why we’re here.”
“P-people have tried to fix me before you know,” Torch said. “Psycho therapy, drugs--”
“I’m sorry.”
“It never worked. They had me in a stain--a stainless steel room before I came here.”
“You-you were institutionalized?”
“That was the only place I couldn’t hurt anyone but myself. I should g-go back.”
“No, no,” Lawrence said. “It’s not your fault that things catch on fire.”
“If I c-could c-control my emotions b-better it wouldn’t happen.”
“That comes with time,” Lawrence said. “Look at Chameleon or Cloud.” The former was a different color every time Lawrence looked at her, and the latter spent most of their training sessions with Romeo floating several inches to several feet above ground.
“But they c-can’t hurt anyone.”
“Not true,” Lawrence said quickly. “Cloud kicked Righteous in the head the other day, remember?”
Torch cracked a smile. “It was f-funny.”
“And I can’t control my powers very well either,” Lawrence said, finishing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you d-do anything,” Torch admitted.
“That’s because I’m not very good.” He didn’t like admitting it, but he knew it was the truth. He wasn’t looking forward to the aptitude test the next week at all. “But powerful emotions do seem to send things flying around the room.”
“So how do you avoid it?”
He remembered his floating coffee cup earlier that week. There had been a few near misses since that first cup of coffee with Lola. “I try not to feel anything.” And until America and Lola, that hadn’t been a problem.
******
Glory came home from her training that Saturday with her hands full of grocery bags. Unable to reach for the knob, she kicked on the door until Lola opened it. Lola had obviously been home for a while--she was wearing sweat pants and a tank top with no bra, her hair wet and wrapped up in a turban of a towel. “You look gorgeous,” Glory joked and handed off some of her bags.
“What did you do?” Lola asked, looking in the bags, “Rob a grocery store?”
“We need snacks for a girls night. Did you order the pizza?”
“It’ll be here in fifteen minutes. And look what I got.” She dumped Glory’s bags on the table and held up two 4 packs of wine coolers.
“How did you get those? We’re underage.”
Lola gave her a slightly wicked grin. “I can be very persuasive.”
“It’s against the law.”
“So does that mean you don’t want any?”
“I didn’t say that--lets put a movie on.”
*****
“I’m okay now,” Lola told Glory half way through their John Hughs marathon. The pizza box sat open and empty on the floor in front of them, and both girls were sipping on wine coolers.
“Will you tell me what was wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s right,” Lola said instead, ignoring the question she would like so much to answer. “I went out for coffee with a boy--twice.”
Glory let out a small squeal. “Excellent, Lola!”
“It’s not like that--he’s just a friend.”
“If it wasn’t ’like that’ you wouldn’t be telling me like its some deep dark secret. What’s he like?”
Lola mused. “Like a puppy,” she said finally. “Like a geeky little puppy.”
Glory, stifling a laugh, snorted. “That’s not your usual type.”
“My type?”
“You know--twenty-somethings with two hundred dollar haircuts and accents.”
“Not true.”
Glory rolled her eyes. “There was that guy over Christmas break last year--”
Lola smiled a little. “Antonio. That was in Italy.”
“And that French guy--”
“Jean-Luc. That was the summer of ‘09.”
“You’ve only ever had vacation boyfriends,” Glory said. “You never had one in school before. This is good for you.”
“The boys at school were lame.”
“Of course they were. Do you know how many times I had to defend you at our high school?”
“No one liked me but you,” Lola said, turning sober.
“I’m your best friend. I kinda’ have to like you.”
“I guess I was never lonely before this year because having you was enough,” Lola said, and she knew immediately that it was true. She was always so much richer than everyone else, and that put up a barrier that became taller and wider as she grew older. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have friends--she did--but Glory was the only one who really cared.
“I’m sorry I’m so busy all the time.”
“No--you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing. You always knew you were destined for greater things.” She had no right to complain about anything Glory did, when she was the one leading the lie. Glory would hate her if she knew…
“Glorious things.”
Lola smiled. “Yes. Glorious. You need to go on being Glorious. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. Besides, now I have Lawrence Lawrence to keep me company.”
Glory laughed. “His name is Lawrence Lawrence?”
******
A/N: So I've been informed that there is already a "Mindmistress" running around the internet as a webcomic, so Lola needs a new name. I want something vaguely BDSM-y, you know? Gold star to anyone who can come up with something good.
You guys got a treat this chapter--it's 3000 words long. Cool, huh? I have a feeling a lot of you are going to get mad at Lawrence in the next few chapters....but I'm having a blast with him, so dont get too mad.
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